When the Guts Taped Shut


There is a disconnect in my gut, its mouth is taped shut.  It is choking on all the words it was never allowed to speak. Pushed down, repressed, swallowed, stuffed up, shoved aside, because to speak was to be the enemy, to enrage others, to be judged, to be cast aside, to be left behind, to be ostracized, shunned, excluded, isolated and punished.

I dare not speak those words, so I taped my gut shut.  And it went silent and stopped working for me. And every time it started rumbling and the sounds started reverberating and stumbling around in the inner cavern of my stomach, churning and turning, trying to get my attention, my ears refused to hear, because the words had nowhere to go, because to pour them out into the world was not safe, was to risk ridicule, judgment and shame, was to risk being hung, or violated, or burnt at the stake.

So, I fed my gut sweet and salty and crunchy treats, to entice it into silence, to block it out, to lull it into a state of slumber to pacify it and feed it a false sense of taste, a sliver of joy, so that it would momentarily be satisfied and stop its yearning and churning and longing. But it never seemed satisfied, at least not for very long, anyway. Because all of these unspoken words had not merely expanded but bored a hole through the floorboards of my existence, leaving only an emptiness that no amount of external gratification could appease or fulfil.

And the more I fed it, the more it craved and its hunger grew and it expanded to make more space for more unspoken words and undigested feelings and all of the things that I have seen and felt and swallowed, that I just could not really stomach. And because I had stopped listening to my gut and its outlet for my expression was blocked and there was nowhere for ME to go, it handed the reigns over to my head.

And my head concocted and analysed and sought answers and made-up stories and elaborate schemes and ideas and plans of brilliant futures and magical dreams that never ever quite became concrete realities, because somehow the desires were never fully backed up by the bold and unhesitating action that create momentum and forward movement, which is the domain and purpose of…guess who…that’s right – the gut!

Because my gut was never given a say.  It was never consulted and so it was not on-board. And so, I could never quite gather enough steam to see something through to the end, the finale, the ultimate completion. And so, I never got to taste, to savour the fruits, to reap the rewards of my hard labour. And the cycle continued and played itself out over and over again in a repetitive and exhausting loop of never going nowhere. And in denying my gut and letting my head take over, that’s how my heart got broken, over and over again.

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