I can almost watch the various wheels turning around town. The voices on the wind, I can hear them. Not that I particularly care these days, what anyone has to say. I know what people think. It doesn't affect me much. I've heard the opinions before, and heard the predictions. And as I've had to handle everything that's possible to be done to me, alone, I can say with a fair amount of confidence, that I really don't care about the opinions of the sheep.
What I do find the most amusing, is the comments that keep showing up on my blog here. And I'm aware that my loyal readers here aren't getting to see the somewhat amusing commentary that's hitting my inbox. Partially because, as always, I moderate, and partially because an *awful* lot of what's coming in, are old blogs that are suddenly garnering commentary attention.
Strikes me as amusing every single time that I start posting with specific references, how quickly some of my popular blogs start getting commentary. Like clockwork, almost. Must grate on the nerves of whoever 'anonymous' is, that I never actually let some of those 'advice' and 'gratitude' comments through.
Well, I'm very happy that they've made terrific lives for themselves, and escaped their terrible torments, and saved their children, etc. That's wonderful for them. And hey, guess what? I'm doing just spiffy for me too! But I don't really need any advice, and I'm really happy for the posters who are so grateful for my words. Glad I saved you from a life in hell, and that you got out. Kudos for, well, whatever you got out of my blog.
I don't know. The truth is, that it can be sort of grating, to know that whoever it is that follows the posts here is so dedicated about it. I have my own personal stalker! Go me! I think about shutting this down occasionally, but I never do, because it's too therapeutic for me.
*changing gears*
I went through the requirements for my degree recently, and realized that at the end of the year, I'll hold an Associate of Science degree, and two years after that, I'll have a Bachelors in Social Work. I'll be...what? Inside my head, it feels like I want to say a grown up, but that isn't right. I'll have achieved a goal, one that most people get to a lot sooner than I did. But it's true. I will have achieved a goal, one that I know that my doctors, a lot of people never really expected of me. Myself included. Even just the regular A.S. degree I never really expected to achieve. It makes me feel...'alive'? "Real" in some fashion, that I never quite felt, not for a long time. Perhaps that was what school has done for me. It made me feel like a 'real' person again. Not this half-life, just kind of existing. I can be someone, can help people, can do things, and achieve things, just like everyone else.
I'm no longer just filling time, and taking up space. And that means a lot to me, for a variety of very personal reasons, that I still need time and space to reason out, even inside my own head.
I have to work harder for school, to learn, than other people, and I accept that. It's a price I have to pay, and it's one I'm very much willing to pay. I've had to pay a price to do a lot of things. To drive a car, to walk, to read. I'm willing to pay those prices, to live and not just exist.
I'm willing to pay a certain price, to love and be loved as well. I'm willing to take certain chances, to try things that I wasn't brave enough to attempt before. And if it all fails? At least I'll have tried. I don't think I was willing to make those attempts before. I simply wasn't stable enough, or whole enough, or ready or willing enough, to try before. And if it fails? It won't be because I wasn't willing to give everything in the attempt. It's a price I'm willing to pay.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Pursuit of happyness
It's taken me a while, to put this blog up, because I had things I needed to do, and people who I needed to take care of, before I could. Because those people are important enough to me, to make damn certain that they were not wounded, when I put this here. Because I've been happy for a few months, and I'm happy now, and the reasons are not the same. But both are important to me. And both will continue to be important to me. I will not give up either one, although they will be completely separate in their contexts or relationships. As I continue to be who I am, and my loyalty as always will remain.
What do you do, when something that you wanted desperately, with every fiber of your being, suddenly appears in front of you, and offers you the words that you wanted to hear? That you are cherished, and you are loved, and that everything can be alright again, and there's a chance at the happiness you thought you lost, and that a mistake had been made? No secrets, no hiding, no lies. Just a chance to rectify a mistake, and a chance to be happy now. What do you do then? What do you do when an apology you thought you'd never hear is given, and everything you want is right there for the taking?
Oh, I loved him. With everything I had, with everything I was, I loved him. I didn't doubt it, I didn't question it, I gave him everything and would have given up anything if it made him happy. I took care of him, and I got broken for my efforts. And I haven't forgotten any of those things. And it took me a very long time, and a lot of work, and a lot of soul searching, and a long time, to get to where I am now. And where I am? It's a good place to be. And over the course of that time, and the very slow process of healing, I stopped being in love with him. I still care about him, still wanted to know that he was alright. But very slowly, I stopped being in love with him. And I moved on.
And it hurt. It cost me, a lot, to let that dream go. But let it go, I did. My dreams changed, and the person I became changed as well, into a much stronger, and more self-reliant person. Someone who had the ability to look at the dreams I had once, and to see what was flawed. And what I was doing to myself, and what I had allowed myself to become.
And when I look, now, at him, what I see isn't the same either. And that overwhelming and crushing desire to give him anything, to be anything if he can just want me? That isn't there anymore. I still care about him. I realized at some point, that I'm always going to care, a part of me will always love him. But there's an equality now. I know that I deserve something more than to be hidden in the shadows, out of the light. And what he offered, was more than what it used to be.
And I'm happy now, standing within his arms, and I'm not hidden in the dark, which is where I always was. There's no shame now, with him. And that was there before as well. There was always someone else that he was searching for, someone else he wanted to hold above me. I was someone to pass the time for him, until the person he wanted more could be available. That shames me.
I'm not ashamed anymore. I am the woman he wants now, because I wouldn't have settled for anything less than that. He makes me happy, and finally, when he looks at me, he *does* look at me. And he's happy with me. And he'd finally realized the mistake that he made, and gave me the words, words I needed to hear, to heal a very large wound that he caused, when he left. That damage is going to be there, for a while. But it helped. It continues to help.
It isn't going to be an immediate fix. But each day that passes, heals a little more. And I missed him, so much, that it was like a hole was missing from inside of me. And having him back feels like I'm complete. It always did.
I can live without him, I proved that, both to myself, and him, when he left. I can do it again, if I have to. But I'd rather not. I'd rather stand at his side, and be happy. I waited, a long time, for that. I'm sorry, that it angers others, but I'll make my own choices, as I always have. I'm sorry it hurts so many people that he cares about as well. But that was his choice too, when he came after me.
We deserve to be happy, everyone does. We're not harming anyone else. If you can't be happy for us? Please, just leave us alone.
What do you do, when something that you wanted desperately, with every fiber of your being, suddenly appears in front of you, and offers you the words that you wanted to hear? That you are cherished, and you are loved, and that everything can be alright again, and there's a chance at the happiness you thought you lost, and that a mistake had been made? No secrets, no hiding, no lies. Just a chance to rectify a mistake, and a chance to be happy now. What do you do then? What do you do when an apology you thought you'd never hear is given, and everything you want is right there for the taking?
Oh, I loved him. With everything I had, with everything I was, I loved him. I didn't doubt it, I didn't question it, I gave him everything and would have given up anything if it made him happy. I took care of him, and I got broken for my efforts. And I haven't forgotten any of those things. And it took me a very long time, and a lot of work, and a lot of soul searching, and a long time, to get to where I am now. And where I am? It's a good place to be. And over the course of that time, and the very slow process of healing, I stopped being in love with him. I still care about him, still wanted to know that he was alright. But very slowly, I stopped being in love with him. And I moved on.
And it hurt. It cost me, a lot, to let that dream go. But let it go, I did. My dreams changed, and the person I became changed as well, into a much stronger, and more self-reliant person. Someone who had the ability to look at the dreams I had once, and to see what was flawed. And what I was doing to myself, and what I had allowed myself to become.
And when I look, now, at him, what I see isn't the same either. And that overwhelming and crushing desire to give him anything, to be anything if he can just want me? That isn't there anymore. I still care about him. I realized at some point, that I'm always going to care, a part of me will always love him. But there's an equality now. I know that I deserve something more than to be hidden in the shadows, out of the light. And what he offered, was more than what it used to be.
And I'm happy now, standing within his arms, and I'm not hidden in the dark, which is where I always was. There's no shame now, with him. And that was there before as well. There was always someone else that he was searching for, someone else he wanted to hold above me. I was someone to pass the time for him, until the person he wanted more could be available. That shames me.
I'm not ashamed anymore. I am the woman he wants now, because I wouldn't have settled for anything less than that. He makes me happy, and finally, when he looks at me, he *does* look at me. And he's happy with me. And he'd finally realized the mistake that he made, and gave me the words, words I needed to hear, to heal a very large wound that he caused, when he left. That damage is going to be there, for a while. But it helped. It continues to help.
It isn't going to be an immediate fix. But each day that passes, heals a little more. And I missed him, so much, that it was like a hole was missing from inside of me. And having him back feels like I'm complete. It always did.
I can live without him, I proved that, both to myself, and him, when he left. I can do it again, if I have to. But I'd rather not. I'd rather stand at his side, and be happy. I waited, a long time, for that. I'm sorry, that it angers others, but I'll make my own choices, as I always have. I'm sorry it hurts so many people that he cares about as well. But that was his choice too, when he came after me.
We deserve to be happy, everyone does. We're not harming anyone else. If you can't be happy for us? Please, just leave us alone.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Something different, something possible, something real?
My great-uncle came through town last night, and I went with him and my aunt and had dinner. Now, this particular uncle is nearly 80 years old, and the man has seen a great many things at his age. During that time, he watched the GM plants be retooled during World War Two, to mass produce materials for the war, instead of automobiles. And I asked him about it, how that worked, and whether or not he thought it was possible for the factories in Michigan to be once again overhauled to be used in a different way.
Because honestly, the idea Michael Moore has presented, at least in part, is one that I like. Converting the major GM factories to stop mass producing cars, which they've already done, but instead hire those workers, and probably more, to construct the materials to manufacture the light rail system that President Obama has been talking about, is a good one. And to manufacture clean buses to run in the small towns nation-wide, is also a damn good idea.
There are flaws in Michael Moore's plan, to be sure. But the core idea is one I like, and my uncle also agreed with it. It would bring jobs, all over the country, as the factories produced both the materials to build the lines, and the people needed to actually operate the trains all over the country. The same for the bus lines, and the people to operate them, and maintain them. American people building them, and running them, and putting people back to work. All over. And this country *needs* that.
If we don't do something, and soon, to bring jobs back onto American soil, and keep those jobs here, there isn't going to be a lot of America left. We import far too many things, and depend far too much on everything else, when this country is fully capable of making the things we need, here at home. A fact which Americans like my uncle still remember, vividly. We can grow what we need, manufacture what we need, and the quality of what we used to make *here at home* far surpassed what we import from other countries.
Certainly, it can be made less expensively in other places, but we're putting our own people out of work to do it, and the goods are not as well-made as a result. And our economy has been and is failing miserably. Our own people are going hungry, and our country is collapsing, and what we have to show for it is going to be a far worse reality than the Great Depression ever was.
This country needs to stop relying on imports, and a good first step would be to start employing the number of people that restructuring the GM plants to bring to reality the light rail system President Obama spoke of. Give jobs to Americans, and boost the economy with American workers, all over the country.
Because honestly, the idea Michael Moore has presented, at least in part, is one that I like. Converting the major GM factories to stop mass producing cars, which they've already done, but instead hire those workers, and probably more, to construct the materials to manufacture the light rail system that President Obama has been talking about, is a good one. And to manufacture clean buses to run in the small towns nation-wide, is also a damn good idea.
There are flaws in Michael Moore's plan, to be sure. But the core idea is one I like, and my uncle also agreed with it. It would bring jobs, all over the country, as the factories produced both the materials to build the lines, and the people needed to actually operate the trains all over the country. The same for the bus lines, and the people to operate them, and maintain them. American people building them, and running them, and putting people back to work. All over. And this country *needs* that.
If we don't do something, and soon, to bring jobs back onto American soil, and keep those jobs here, there isn't going to be a lot of America left. We import far too many things, and depend far too much on everything else, when this country is fully capable of making the things we need, here at home. A fact which Americans like my uncle still remember, vividly. We can grow what we need, manufacture what we need, and the quality of what we used to make *here at home* far surpassed what we import from other countries.
Certainly, it can be made less expensively in other places, but we're putting our own people out of work to do it, and the goods are not as well-made as a result. And our economy has been and is failing miserably. Our own people are going hungry, and our country is collapsing, and what we have to show for it is going to be a far worse reality than the Great Depression ever was.
This country needs to stop relying on imports, and a good first step would be to start employing the number of people that restructuring the GM plants to bring to reality the light rail system President Obama spoke of. Give jobs to Americans, and boost the economy with American workers, all over the country.
Friday, June 19, 2009
...controlling controversy...
Ever feel like you're being hit from all sides? It feels that way to me occasionally, and this has definitely been one of those weeks. And don't get me wrong, I'd be in a *lot* worse shape than I could be, if someone hadn't been here with me all week, helping to hold me together, and I know it. But I also know that that can't last forever, and he'll go home, probably after the weekend, and I'm going to need to pull myself back together on my own.
I've had a series of panic attacks this week, which knocked out my speech. I was more or less catatonic as I had pointed out to me, even though I was trying very hard to convince myself that I was doing just fine. Ah, self-delusion for the win. Not so much, huh? I guess I'm actually somewhat breaking under the strain, and I hate it. And there just doesn't seem to be much I can do about it, and I am just so damned tired. And I want it all to stop, and that doesn't help either.
And I'm still just sitting here, watching everything around me, and I feel so damned detached that it frightens me somewhat. I keep trying, to reconnect, and failing. I haven't felt this disassociated from the people and things that I loved in a long time, and that makes me so afraid that I might not ever get back to a feeling of normalcy again. There aren't very many people that I feel safe or secure with these days, that I trust at all, to talk to, to explain how I'm feeling at all. I give the most basic of answers when people ask me questions, because I'm not inclined to trust anyone.
I realized, recently, how few people actually see me, when they look at me. And it unnerved me. I've always thought it, but to actually have that feeling validated, that they way I thought people were viewing me, and the fact that they can't see through the mask I wear? I didn't realize that people are that unobservant. As for the most part, the mask is only in place to keep out those I don't care about, not to block out people who care enough to look past it.
I came face to face with the reality of that, when someone who truly looked directly at me called me on those discrepancies. But it unnerved me, because so few people bother to actually look at me, it caught me off guard. I wasn't angry, I was simply shocked, to have anyone notice.
I write this blog, day in and day out, I write pieces of me. Things I see other places. Rants when I'm upset. Anecdotes, humor pieces, advice, so many bits and pieces and just assorted things. All of the parts of me that go into my writing, and that are put out there, for people to criticize and evaluate and mull over, and then give feedback and leave comments for. And I get a fair amount of commentary on here, whether or not I actually allow it all to make it through to everyone else to see. And that's fine, because not everything that gets commented on, needs to be posted all the way through to this blog.
But in the end, what I write here, is a simple, straightforward way for me to get out all the noise that's going on in my head, that I'm *comfortable* putting out for the internet masses to see. If I wasn't alright with everyone seeing what was going on inside my head, it wouldn't be here. I have other places that I write, that are private, that are not fodder for the masses, that can't be accessed by people who can push my buttons, and manipulate me at will. I know better than that.
I *enjoy* writing here, as Controversy. I do. But I'm certainly not going to expose every thing that goes through my mind to the world, and what I put up here, isn't edited, because I do know better than to leave myself wide-open to have something ripped open.
I know who reads this site, I know who has access to push my buttons here. I could have taken it down, and run away, like so many other people have done, because of me, when they had their own blogs like this one. I simply have more emotional fortitude. Or maybe I'm just fucking stubborn, I don't know. So, now that so much time has passed, my presence remains, and my words keep coming, and I keep writing. And sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I laugh, and sometimes I cry. And when somebody says something I don't like, I tend to shrug, and go on with my day, because at the end of the day? They can't hurt me here.
*No one* can inflict any amount of pain upon me, that I won't allow, through this medium. Sort of a "sticks and stones" philosophy. Words only hurt me, when I give them power, and I choose to not give anyone any amount of power to manipulate me.
This? This is *my* world, here. I created it. I craft it, and I control it. Anything I think, or say, or do, or feel, here, is a result of some part of *me*, and no one else but me has no means of control here.
I've had a series of panic attacks this week, which knocked out my speech. I was more or less catatonic as I had pointed out to me, even though I was trying very hard to convince myself that I was doing just fine. Ah, self-delusion for the win. Not so much, huh? I guess I'm actually somewhat breaking under the strain, and I hate it. And there just doesn't seem to be much I can do about it, and I am just so damned tired. And I want it all to stop, and that doesn't help either.
And I'm still just sitting here, watching everything around me, and I feel so damned detached that it frightens me somewhat. I keep trying, to reconnect, and failing. I haven't felt this disassociated from the people and things that I loved in a long time, and that makes me so afraid that I might not ever get back to a feeling of normalcy again. There aren't very many people that I feel safe or secure with these days, that I trust at all, to talk to, to explain how I'm feeling at all. I give the most basic of answers when people ask me questions, because I'm not inclined to trust anyone.
I realized, recently, how few people actually see me, when they look at me. And it unnerved me. I've always thought it, but to actually have that feeling validated, that they way I thought people were viewing me, and the fact that they can't see through the mask I wear? I didn't realize that people are that unobservant. As for the most part, the mask is only in place to keep out those I don't care about, not to block out people who care enough to look past it.
I came face to face with the reality of that, when someone who truly looked directly at me called me on those discrepancies. But it unnerved me, because so few people bother to actually look at me, it caught me off guard. I wasn't angry, I was simply shocked, to have anyone notice.
I write this blog, day in and day out, I write pieces of me. Things I see other places. Rants when I'm upset. Anecdotes, humor pieces, advice, so many bits and pieces and just assorted things. All of the parts of me that go into my writing, and that are put out there, for people to criticize and evaluate and mull over, and then give feedback and leave comments for. And I get a fair amount of commentary on here, whether or not I actually allow it all to make it through to everyone else to see. And that's fine, because not everything that gets commented on, needs to be posted all the way through to this blog.
But in the end, what I write here, is a simple, straightforward way for me to get out all the noise that's going on in my head, that I'm *comfortable* putting out for the internet masses to see. If I wasn't alright with everyone seeing what was going on inside my head, it wouldn't be here. I have other places that I write, that are private, that are not fodder for the masses, that can't be accessed by people who can push my buttons, and manipulate me at will. I know better than that.
I *enjoy* writing here, as Controversy. I do. But I'm certainly not going to expose every thing that goes through my mind to the world, and what I put up here, isn't edited, because I do know better than to leave myself wide-open to have something ripped open.
I know who reads this site, I know who has access to push my buttons here. I could have taken it down, and run away, like so many other people have done, because of me, when they had their own blogs like this one. I simply have more emotional fortitude. Or maybe I'm just fucking stubborn, I don't know. So, now that so much time has passed, my presence remains, and my words keep coming, and I keep writing. And sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I laugh, and sometimes I cry. And when somebody says something I don't like, I tend to shrug, and go on with my day, because at the end of the day? They can't hurt me here.
*No one* can inflict any amount of pain upon me, that I won't allow, through this medium. Sort of a "sticks and stones" philosophy. Words only hurt me, when I give them power, and I choose to not give anyone any amount of power to manipulate me.
This? This is *my* world, here. I created it. I craft it, and I control it. Anything I think, or say, or do, or feel, here, is a result of some part of *me*, and no one else but me has no means of control here.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
June 17th, 2009
Been a while since I actually sat down and wrote here. Couple of weeks, which is strange for me. I know, I know. And it isn't as though (except for the last couple of days) I've been hiding in a corner, all covered in depression, too upset to write anything. I've actually been really busy, and simply haven't stopped to update anyone on what's been going on in my world.
I didn't get the job that I wanted, I guess I'll start there. And I've been kind of upset about it. And I had to go in for some testing recently, and I'm still waiting on the results of the biopsies, but the things that are pending, none of them look good. The initial bit that they took off, those were cancer, and I already know that. I'm having a lot of trouble coping, and keeping up my day-to-day ability to deal.
And Monkey was in town, for the last week and a half, and that was wonderful. Seeing her, and spending the time with her, it was great. And then I had to take her home, and it hurt, letting her go hurt. That was two days ago, and I've done pretty much nothing since I got back home but sit curled up on the corner of the couch, and watch silly television shows, and tried to block everything out. Not the most mature response in the world, but it was the best I could do.
Which brings us to today, where I'm finally somewhat managing to function like a regular person, and trying to get myself back together. I have a new application to fill out, for a scholarship for school, that landed in my inbox, I want to say yesterday. I had to call Danny to have it printed out, because apparently my printer has completely died, and refuses to resurrect, no matter what I do to it. If anyone has any spares lying around, please send one my way. All it needs to do is print black & white, I don't do anything fancy these days with it. I'll buy one eventually, but at the moment, I'm still working on that whole "paying my rent" thing, so running out to purchase a printer isn't exactly at the top of the to-do list.
I helped a friend go and get a car last week, and he's very pleased, which makes me happy. And I'm looking forward to seeing all the costumes at the Mad Scientist party that another friend is hosting this weekend. I'll be taking pictures for that one, because that's fun for me. And while I could write quite a bit more, right now, I think what I'm going to do now, is go and clean up a bit around the house, and sit and be cuddled, because that is what will make me feel the best, and I've finally grasped that it's better to just accept that, than try to be stubborn and prideful about it.
Have a good one, internets.
I didn't get the job that I wanted, I guess I'll start there. And I've been kind of upset about it. And I had to go in for some testing recently, and I'm still waiting on the results of the biopsies, but the things that are pending, none of them look good. The initial bit that they took off, those were cancer, and I already know that. I'm having a lot of trouble coping, and keeping up my day-to-day ability to deal.
And Monkey was in town, for the last week and a half, and that was wonderful. Seeing her, and spending the time with her, it was great. And then I had to take her home, and it hurt, letting her go hurt. That was two days ago, and I've done pretty much nothing since I got back home but sit curled up on the corner of the couch, and watch silly television shows, and tried to block everything out. Not the most mature response in the world, but it was the best I could do.
Which brings us to today, where I'm finally somewhat managing to function like a regular person, and trying to get myself back together. I have a new application to fill out, for a scholarship for school, that landed in my inbox, I want to say yesterday. I had to call Danny to have it printed out, because apparently my printer has completely died, and refuses to resurrect, no matter what I do to it. If anyone has any spares lying around, please send one my way. All it needs to do is print black & white, I don't do anything fancy these days with it. I'll buy one eventually, but at the moment, I'm still working on that whole "paying my rent" thing, so running out to purchase a printer isn't exactly at the top of the to-do list.
I helped a friend go and get a car last week, and he's very pleased, which makes me happy. And I'm looking forward to seeing all the costumes at the Mad Scientist party that another friend is hosting this weekend. I'll be taking pictures for that one, because that's fun for me. And while I could write quite a bit more, right now, I think what I'm going to do now, is go and clean up a bit around the house, and sit and be cuddled, because that is what will make me feel the best, and I've finally grasped that it's better to just accept that, than try to be stubborn and prideful about it.
Have a good one, internets.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
running under the stars
When I was in the sixth grade, I used to love to run. I took it for granted then, the way my body worked, the absolute grace and freedom that I had as my muscles obeyed me and the sheer coordination that made it possible for me to run. I roller skated then, too, for fun. I had amazing balance and essentially had a joy for being in motion.
When I graduated from eighth grade, I got a new bicycle, and loved riding it, because it allowed me to go much faster, and with more grace and coordination than my older bike did. And I rode everywhere. And yet, I still loved to run. Much to my parents chagrin, my personal preference was running at night, and they allowed it because as far as they were concerned, it was exercise, and so they let me go. But what I remember was the feeling of my muscles working, and the freedom of pounding along under the stars as I moved.
I loved that feeling, the way it felt to run all through high school. Sometime after I graduated, my coordination began failing me, and the things I had always taken for granted stopped being fun anymore. A lot of things I had accepted without question, because I honestly didn't really think about anything during that time period, that I'm now questioning.
I miss the body that I used to have. I miss the grace and coordination and general joy that it brought me, and the easy ability to do what I wanted with that body. I honestly don't know how much of it I'll be able to get back. My balance and coordination are a permanent injury, from the brain trauma. I've learned to accept that. I'll never do handstands. I'll never do ballet.
And chances are pretty high that running a marathon is probably not going to be a realistic goal for me. But being able to run at all? With the simple, easy joy that it once brought me? That might be within the realm of reality again, when I'm back down to the size I once was. I can *feel* the way my body once moved, even now. Yes, it fucking hurts, forcing those muscles to obey me. I'm not even trying to say that it doesn't. And yes, the injuries to my hip and my spine are going to remain. I'm paying dearly for even trying to retrain my body to do things it never planned on doing again.
But I'm not looking to be able to be a gymnast, like my daughter. I'm simply looking to be able to enjoy the life I have, and that includes being able to participate in hers, when she visits. Ultimately, that's probably going to mean doing physical therapy again, serious physical therapy again, to work on my spine, and get fitted for braces for my left leg, and I know it. Is that worth it to me? You bet your ass it is, if that's what it takes to give me back that freedom of motion, even temporarily, or even on a part-time basis.
When I graduated from eighth grade, I got a new bicycle, and loved riding it, because it allowed me to go much faster, and with more grace and coordination than my older bike did. And I rode everywhere. And yet, I still loved to run. Much to my parents chagrin, my personal preference was running at night, and they allowed it because as far as they were concerned, it was exercise, and so they let me go. But what I remember was the feeling of my muscles working, and the freedom of pounding along under the stars as I moved.
I loved that feeling, the way it felt to run all through high school. Sometime after I graduated, my coordination began failing me, and the things I had always taken for granted stopped being fun anymore. A lot of things I had accepted without question, because I honestly didn't really think about anything during that time period, that I'm now questioning.
I miss the body that I used to have. I miss the grace and coordination and general joy that it brought me, and the easy ability to do what I wanted with that body. I honestly don't know how much of it I'll be able to get back. My balance and coordination are a permanent injury, from the brain trauma. I've learned to accept that. I'll never do handstands. I'll never do ballet.
And chances are pretty high that running a marathon is probably not going to be a realistic goal for me. But being able to run at all? With the simple, easy joy that it once brought me? That might be within the realm of reality again, when I'm back down to the size I once was. I can *feel* the way my body once moved, even now. Yes, it fucking hurts, forcing those muscles to obey me. I'm not even trying to say that it doesn't. And yes, the injuries to my hip and my spine are going to remain. I'm paying dearly for even trying to retrain my body to do things it never planned on doing again.
But I'm not looking to be able to be a gymnast, like my daughter. I'm simply looking to be able to enjoy the life I have, and that includes being able to participate in hers, when she visits. Ultimately, that's probably going to mean doing physical therapy again, serious physical therapy again, to work on my spine, and get fitted for braces for my left leg, and I know it. Is that worth it to me? You bet your ass it is, if that's what it takes to give me back that freedom of motion, even temporarily, or even on a part-time basis.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
the late night plan
"I'm going to go and find the place dreams sleep, and chase them."
That's my plan for tonight, and I even know where my dreams are right now, and what I'm currently chasing...for a change. *wry smile* I don't often know, and know what it is that I'm specifically looking for when I close my eyes...and know what it is that I'll be thinking about when I wake back up.
Goodnight internets. Sleep well. May you chase the dreams that make you smile, and may you smile when you wake back up.
That's my plan for tonight, and I even know where my dreams are right now, and what I'm currently chasing...for a change. *wry smile* I don't often know, and know what it is that I'm specifically looking for when I close my eyes...and know what it is that I'll be thinking about when I wake back up.
Goodnight internets. Sleep well. May you chase the dreams that make you smile, and may you smile when you wake back up.
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