So in my favorite episode of
The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon has
disappeared in the middle of the night.
Leonard leaves sleep to go get him from McDonalds.
Upon arrival, he is pointed toward the ball pit
where Sheldon is attempting to create carbon atoms;
to make clear and visible
an invisible, highly complex concept.
Determined not to be deterred
when Leonard jumps in, Sheldon dives
among the balls. Leonard chases, misses, repeats
as Sheldon perpetually pops out:
Bazinga.
It occurs to me that this is metaphor
for my attempts to capture and extract truth
from a senseless past –
diving, grasping, pawing through child’s things,
trying to discover meaning.
Eventually exhausted,
I lay back in the pit.
Truth pops out again a little way off,
raises an eyebrow, states simply:
Bazinga.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I’ve been thinking a lot about this poem lately. It makes me feel good every time I read it. In fact, it’s one of my favorites from my survival memoir The Locust Years.
Other people don’t seem to get it. I get a lot of “Aw, that’s sad” or “I’m sorry.” They think that the idea of not being able to discover “the truth” about a situation is depressing. What these well-meaning friends don’t realize is, this is actually a freeing concept for me.
Here’s the deal. I spent my childhood, my teens, and a good part of my twenties mulling over and over the traumatic things that happened as I was growing up. Therapists call this “ruminating” and it is one of the worst things we can do in terms of our healing journey.
See, I am a fixer -BIGTIME. And long after I failed to fix what happened, I thought it would be redemptive to at least understand it. But try as we might, there are just some things we will never understand. Abby (my therapist, for those just finding this blog) finally told me one day, there’s no way you’ll ever understand why your mother did the things she did, or what she was thinking when she did them. No one can. That’s how mental illness works…!
Something about the way she said it hit home at last, and a miracle happened – I was *free*! I had been told by a mental health professional that understanding my mother and all the things she put us through was impossible. That meant I could stop trying! I could finally move on with my life and devote my energies to tasks that might truly help me heal!
Soon after that epiphany, I watched this episode of The Big Bang (such a great show!) and the poem just came to me. It has had very little revision and feels in its’ “truest” form just the way it is. It is very difficult for me to let go of the “missions” my brain assigns me. As usual, poetry and therapy made a powerful and magical combination!
Have you ever decided to let go of something and felt that wonderful sense of freedom afterwards? Have you written a poem about it? Or maybe the poem helped free you! Please share in the comments and lets inspire others!
