Top-Heavy Balloon Head

My dear, dear head
My recklessly inflated balloon
On the edge in too many ways
Unbelievably filled, packed to perfection
With the prowess of a Tetris champion
Near 35 years of mint-condition issues
Of every childlike idea, fantasy, and fear —
Boxes stacked in more than four corners
Irrelevant mechanisms reread on the regular
A head full of hogwash and haywire
Crusted in thick layers of stalemate dust

Inside my head is a labyrinth that never ends
Resident debate teams locked in lazy argument
I — unqualified, yet tenured judge leading the filibuster
By sinister strategy, nothing gets through this head
This head a hive, and every thought packed snug in honey
There are avenues — but the tolls are too costly
Borders — but patrols punish without the proper paperwork
This steam-punked, booby-trapped, frankenmind
Teetering on cliff’s edge, top-heavy, and ready to burst
I create things very hard to be undone
This heaving, heavy, heady, head no exception

It is time to step out of these melodramatic, meandering mazes
To vacate south, away from this headlock(ed) in the clouds
And into the patient and capable body below
Into leaping legs, that will lead to new locales
Into hands that will hold magic wonders of the world
Into bone and muscle at attention and ready for adventure
Into heart and spirit and posture, open and ready for new life

I often process a therapy session with a writing both to capture what was unearthed in a way that I connect with, and as a way to preserve the gravity of what self-discovery was like in that moment. This piece resulted from one of my first somatic-based therapy sessions exploring my adult head crammed for years with now unhelpful navigations of my child self.