Escape

When the world is pounding on my door, the door that is my mind, and all I can hear are the blaring sirens and shouts of conflict from the hurting and the hurt, I seek any amount of silence. I need a moment of peace, but when my mind itself is consumed with such bright, flashing chaos, this can be a difficult feat. It would sound impossible to find refuge from your own thoughts, but there is a place I've found, deeper than the overwhelming over-thinking.
Whenever I feel the turmoil stiring and building up, when I can no longer contain the pressures, I walk away. I walk away from the thoughts just for a little while.
My back flat on the floor, my eyelids flutter closed until they are settled, I dive deep into my brain. It's like swimming in there, not like in a pool but maybe a bowl of pudding or a thick cloud of storms. I see flashes of neon lights as well as consistently dark areas. I am propelled ahead as my arms begin to stroke and my legs kick against the substance surrounding me . Around each corner are new colors and textures that are my thoughts and memories.
I see lightning rods of red. A painful area. Kept here are the yelling matches, the hurts undeserved, all the times I've been hurt physically or otherwise. Anger. Resentment. There are flash backs playing on some sort of screen, as I slide by. I feel the sudden sting of a hand across my cheek and I kick urgently to escape these aching memories of the red times I've known.
Now to the right there is a calmer grey patch.When I first approach I feel the comfort of it, but as I settle in I realize the hopelessness held here. All the times when I felt alone, the times when I was. Knowing how stuck one can become when inhabiting this grey I decide to move on once again.
Swimming a while further I see something unlike the other parts of my mind. Reaching out to touch the sparkling teal I find it rough, even sharp in some parts. The screen of memories begins to play once more revealing to me the topic of this section of cells. Victory. I see and remember the first time I stood up to my oppressor, a kill made during the intense moments of a volleyball match in overtime, all the times I didn't want to get out of bed but did anyway. Every little win is here, rough because they were not easy, sparkling because of the determination needed to reach them.
Maybe I'll stay here for a bit. Rest. But what is that? That blue dripping towards me, no, flowing towards me. It's winding in and out of all the other colors like a shoe lace tying them together. Passing me now the stream takes a turn, I squirm to follow. I reach what seams to be the end of the line. Ahead there is only darkness, held away by some sort of membrane. Again I touch the substance and as I do the balloon like barrier slices open. I climb through. I settle in. I look back on my thoughts now as an outsider, no longer drowning in them. Again I ponder the meaning the clear, blue shoe lace brings, and suddenly I know. It is my Lord. He is there in the furious red moments, He was with me in the desolate grey, He carried me to each one of my sparkling victories, He is with me now. He is. I feel a relaxing cool as the stream flows into my cavity of safe escape. It pools around my feet and hips, and I breathe, letting go of all the tension. I breathe. Here is my refuge. Here with my Lord, my peace, my rest. Here I find silence at last.