Invasion Of The Black Sludge

black-sludge

I wasn’t going to write anything this morning. As consciousness seeped in, as my eyes wondered whether to remain clam tight and ignore my stirring body, I felt the black sludge enveloping my brain. I know it can’t always be rainbows, pixie dust and unicorns in there all the time, but why do we get the thick, choking black sludge seeping in, slowly and inexorably covering everything in its path? Its progression all the more devastating when life has been so bright before its return.

As with anything and everything my mind won’t just sit back and accept, it has to question and question like a nagging toddler. What is happening in my life? What have I done to trigger this, what have my thoughts been, what foods have I eaten? What exercise have I or have I not done? Always I want a reason, an explanation, and, of course, a solution. 

Most of all I wonder why this black sludge is so prevalent throughout our species. It seems to exist in every corner of every mind, an alien being spawned centuries ago, lying dormant until the time is right, until enough keys are in place ready to unlock its cell door and release it to gradually, slowly and sludgely  take over the world.

Do, we accept it as part of the human condition? Do we just keep black and carry on, as I was raised to do? Do we medicate it away? Is it ok to fight it with chemicals rather than constant tiring sneaky tactics of diversion and subversion? I don’t know. And I think that’s my weakness, that is when the black sludge knows it can seep in and take over. The soft under belly is exposed. When my mind is distracted by not knowing, when it is busy trying to work out how it can zap someone else’s black sludge, when it is confused, with no easy solution, desperately wanting and needing to do something, anything to help, when the body is busy fighting its own viral battle and starts feeling weak, that fucking sneaky beaky black sludge always senses, always spots the advantage.

Maybe this is Armageddon? Maybe the world truly won’t end with a bang, but with a black, sludgey, choked whimper of given up hope?

Ok, that’s enough, I’m not sinking down. That fucking stinky dark foul sticky slime is NOT going to take over. It is NOT going to dominate me, or anyone else I love. I will not lie back and allow it to gradually fossilise this body, this brain. I have fought it before, and I will fight it again. I have my own sneaky ninja methods, my own trip wires and traps. I DO have knowledge, and experience. I have fought it before, and I have won, am constantly winning, and now I need to teach my child, my children, my loved ones, I need to help them devise their own ninja tricks, help them create their own armour, to realise it is an ongoing war, not a lightning battle.

We can always cue the A Team music, we always have tools to hand, a workshop of supplies, and, if we are lucky, a team of like minded idiots around us willing to make whatever is needed. 

So… Cue music, let’s get to work…

 

 

xxx

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