‘scuse me while I kiss the sky

I recently read a line on a blog summarizing Sod and Murphy’s Laws. The summation was “everything happens to me, for me.” And while at first I scoffed at it’s almost biblical connotation I started to repeat it to myself over and over as I processed it. I let my mind’s tongue work over every word like it was a giant cage my brain was trying to pry into. Everything happens to me. For me. After I’d scavenged the carcass of this phrase and spit out the bones I liked it more and more. Everything happens to me, for me. What a wonderful thing to remember when I’m trying to blame the world for my problems. I like this phrase because it puts me back into control. The responsibility to put my life right after so much is in my own hands. My experiences have given me the tools to rebuild. Even the experiences that brought me to the very edge of my destruction have provided for me.

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Everything happens to me used to be my mantra. I’ve been beaten, bruised, and almost killed. I’ve trekked across the world trying to put myself back together and still have barely made a stitch. Maybe I’ve been leaving out the most important part of it all. It’s all been for me. I truly believe that despite the hardships I’ve faced the universe has had my best interest at heart. Even though I may seem to have a tendency for the melancholy and melodramatic, I mean what I say on both ends. I just need to rework my brain and add a new end to my previous mantra of ‘everything happens to me.’ For me.

 

Grimace, motherfucker.

I want to walk up to you.
And scream in your face.
I want my warm, sharp voice to brush the hair back from your face. 
I want to spit fire.
Grimace, motherfucker.

I want to scream at people with normal brain chemistry.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that their minds don’t work the way mine does… or should I say that their minds do work and mine doesn’t? That can’t possibly be true, my head is hot with a constant never ending friction of endless thoughts.
How is it that they don’t think the things that I think. How is it that every moment of every day they’re not trying to figure out the quickest way out of the room, out of their head, or out of their own damn skin. Why am I the only one trying to calculate how quickly I can unravel before someone notices and puts me back together?

A Naive Notion?

Life is weird. The little details that add up over the course of your life can take the wind out of you when you realize what the summation is. And it can be strange to think how easily you could have missed the spot where you’re standing if one of those miniscule details didn’t happen. To think if a microscopic fraction of your life had gone differently; where would you be standing now? It’s got me wondering how the decisions I’ve made, how the decision others have made, and how the universe have shaped the path that has risen up to meet me. How is it exactly that I’ve arrived in 2016 standing in front of someone who I loved 10 years ago and haven’t stopped thinking of since.
It’s been put into perspective just how long 10 years is; and how fast and how slow the time goes. How the person who I was 10 years ago is a stark and naïve comparison to who I am now. How strange it is that two people who believed they were destined to be apart could in fact grow towards each other, following each other’s footsteps blindly in the night. Is it fate? Is the universe giving me a sign that I’ve longed for my whole life? Or is that a silly notion belonging in the same box as fairy tales and myth? Who is to say? Can I trust it to be a fairytale; something a kin to the stories I tell myself at night to get to sleep? Can fate be trusted? Fate is written but you don’t get to see the end. So if I, someone of sound mind and education, someone reasonable, someone scientific believe that the universe is standing in front of me with giant foam fingers screaming “You idiot! This is your f*cking sign!” then it’s probably fairly valid, right?
So my big question is: is the universe fighting for me? Is it trying, with all its might, to move two bodies it deems soul mates closer together. Because I can’t tell anymore and I am two scared to climb up to the mountains and ask the universe point blank. The universe has a tendency to not answer and occasionally be a dick. Okay, more than occasionally. Perhaps our souls had been intertwined long before our bodies had and since we divided the universe has slowly and without our knowing led us back to each other. Is that a legitimate hope? Or a naïve musing of a girl carrying around a ten-year old heart break?

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Incomplete

When I was a teenager, I believed I was losing my mind. It seemed then, as if I was losing my grasp on everything I’d clung so tightly to. Whether it was my friends or partners or dreams, they all suddenly seemed unattainable and I slipped slowly, and then rather quickly, into madness. My whole perspective, as did the world it seemed, shifted and I found myself at the first of what would be many rock bottoms. I have never wanted anything more than how badly I wished to stop being. How easy it would have been to leave my story incomplete. Remarkably, although I am still unsure as to how, I managed to come away from that bottom and today it is an entirely new form of madness. The life is no longer going to be unfinished. There will be an end, but perhaps the quality of the life is what will remain incomplete. And the insanity that seeks me now is from not being able to escape the constant mental flogging. It is the relentless booming voice that breaks me down into an uncountable number of pieces. So I surround myself with beautiful people who all love and care for me. I occupy my time with forms of expression that are free, legal, and liberating. And all of this quiets the cacophony rattling in my skull but even still I cannot avoid the assault onto my person by my own person. I am at once filled with so much hate and so much love. I am both proud and ashamed of all the things that I’ve done. However after this division of my very being I have now found myself on the outside of everything. Now, I do not belong here. Here in my bedroom, in my job, in my city, or in my country. I don’t belong anywhere, it seems. And I don’t belong to anyone and none belong to me. It is daily that I feel like I’m even outside of my body. Like one shakes a pillow down into a pillow case I need something to shake me back down into my skin and put me back together.

We are sinking so fast

Sleep can often be a gift; perhaps it is the greatest escape. When the mind can shut itself off for a few hours and just be. Most nights my resting mind is a blank slate making quiet whirring noises dreaming of nothing but a black blackness. Occasionally, my dreams betray me letting shapes and colors slip past that sleepy membrane thus disturbing what would have been a peaceful nights sleep. In the night he managed to sneak through the cracks of my subconscious and bathe in my mind’s eye. He has stained my sleep and left me with this feeling that he is following me, standing just outside of my periphery. Despite it’s blank state of sleep, I think that my mind always misses him but often chooses not to acknowledge it. My mind is protecting my heart allowing my body to get up everyday and not plunge back into bed unable to stand up. But when you suddenly miss someone who’s been gone for a while it’s like they bump into you. As if you were two passing strangers walking the same path unaware of it until you collide and slam right into each other. You hit head on and all at once you realize how your life had formed around them and you wonder how you hadn’t noticed the gaping hole they’d left when they went.

Sunrise Projection–not a yoga move

Ask and you shall receive I guess. I went to another doctor for a second opinion on my recent knee saga. I’ve been to this doctor before and didn’t particularly care for him. He had a way of looking through me and avoided answering my questions. But I was referred to him again and went anyway. He had me lie on the table as he probed around my knee. He said he felt something that wasn’t right so he looked at my MRI scans from about 5 years ago and noticed something odd. He had me do a new x-ray image that I’d never had before. It’s called a sunrise projection and it’s aimed at the patella looking for fractures. And there you have it. A nickel sized bone fragment that had been fractured and severed from my knee cap. He says that there is no way to tell how or when I broke the patella but it’s a start to answering the questions as to why am I always in pain. You’d be in pain too if you had a pointy piece of bone grinding between your joints. So the answer is now what?knee

What it’s like to suffer from Chronic Pain

When I was a teenager I tore my Posterior-Cruciate Ligament (PCL) while running. I twisted an ankle, heard a loud pop, and suddenly I was in the most pain I’d ever been in in. My body knew my leg was broken. Students ran to the nurses office to have the school call an ambulance but the nurse refused. Instead she said I had to come to her. So three of my closest friends carried me from the track field to the nurses office where she suddenly realized how serious my condition was. She called my dad and he took me to the doctor. No ambulance was called that day and almost nothing was done for me.

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I was told my leg wasn’t broken. In fact I’d torn my PCL, the ligament that crosses behind the more well know Anterior-Cruciate Ligament (ACL). I’d also dislocated my knee which tore my Medial Collateral Ligament (MCL) and had done irreversible damage to my joint. The doctor said there wasn’t anything to be done and referred me to a physical therapy office which was shut down about 6 months after I finally stopped going. Not only were they not professional and not accredited they continued to cause damage to my knee. I didn’t walk for 3 three weeks and was on crutches for a month after that. From then on my knee dislocated easily and it happened constantly through the rest of my adolescence being that I was an active kid on the volleyball, tennis, swim, and sailing teams. I also developed arthritis in my knee before I was 20. Twelve years have passed and my life looks a lot different now that I realized the wrong doing that was done to me when I was younger.

Now, my friends want to go out to a bunch of bars on a Friday night. We get ready back at my apartment and they’re all in agreement that they’re not going to bring a purse. All of them tuck their cash and cards into pockets or bras and they’re ready to go.

I can’t. I have to take a bag. I have to be able to fit my 200 count bottle of pain relievers somewhere. I have to be able to bring my giant tin of Tiger Balm. I have to.

No, I can’t just leave it. Yes, I will need it; all of it. I will without a doubt, 100 percent be in pain. And if I’m in pain, I can’t dance, I won’t drink, I won’t move, and if it gets bad enough I won’t be able to speak. All I’ll be able to do is rub my joints and beg my friends, who are having a blast, to take me home.

I’ve been in pain since 2004. In the most recent years after seeing every doctor made available to me, I’ve been told over and over I have no options. There isn’t a surgery that exists that can help me, too much time has passed, and the bio-mechanics of my knee are uniquely…fucked, if you will.

I won’t leave my house without pain relievers or Tiger Balm. I won’t leave my city without my heating pad or an ice pack. I’ve canceled hundreds of plans, lost thousands of hours of sleep, and have had dozens of x-rays and MRIs. Doctors can’t operate, physical therapy doesn’t work, there isn’t anything I can do. So I deal with it.

Unfortunately, I am used to it. I’m in pain, always. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be woken up in the middle of the night because you’re in so much pain your brain can’t rest. But then, at that point, you’re in so much pain and you’re so tired you can’t move. You can’t get up to get some water to take your medicine or search through your belongings looking for Tiger Balm. Your brain is so chaotic with bright lights and your whole body is burning and there is nothing you can do but writhe miserably in pain. And no one else understands.

They can’t relate and they don’t know how to help you. Even I don’t know what to do but bite down on a leather strap and hope it’s over soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Post: Quote me

Quote Me
How could I pick just one quote to always go back to? I have many quotes that support me like a old wooden crutch bent at occasional awkward angles. I have quotes that have pushed me across countries fueling my desire to keep moving. I have quotes that have effortlessly expressed what I’ve struggled for years to arrange into words. I have strings of words that have made me step away from so many edges. There are quotes that have made me laugh or smile; those that have inspired me to paint, write, or sing. Quotes that pulled tears from my eyes and stirred emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I have a page of quotes I’d more than happily carve into my skin and fill the empty places with a course black ink so that I could carry them with me always. But based on where I am today and as of late I think I will go with this:

“Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim.”

-Tyler Knott Gregson

Try something you could fail at.

South Pole Explorer-Inspiration

An inspiring explorer has died during a large undertaking. I have nothing but admiration and respect for this great man. I hope he has found peace.

“I’ve always sort of lived by the phrase, “Try something you could fail at. We all do things that we can comfortably achieve, but rarely do we set the high bar one notch above what we think we can clear, and that’s what’s driving me on here.””

Daily Prompt: life after Blogs

Life After Blogs

I imagine the day the computers quit that there would be a delicate buzz and whirl across the world. It would pass unnoticed by the population until everything went off with a click. And then a zap! You would come padding into the kitchen with bare feet and start ranting. I’d look up from my coffee cup at your early disturbance.

I can hear you now, what is happening? How will you ever finish your work, read: watch Netflix, or mindlessly scroll through the virtual day. You angrily shove the coffee pot back into its housing shifting the whole thing with your frustration. Your hair is sticking up and your beard is too scruffy; I find your annoyance cute. Continuing to mutter to yourself you’re down on hands and knees in the pantry where we keep all of our pots and pans. There’s a loud clanking of metal on metal as you search for the right one, this cacophony echoes in our silent home.  I’m convinced that with the absence of technology all of our neighbors can hear your discontent. Soon, you’ve found the pan and your chopping and dicing making something delicious to eat. Fragrant smells leak around us staining the air for the first time in weeks, our trash piled up with to-go containers and pizza boxes are a stout comparison. When your hostility passes you’re talking, chatting away about your boss, and making time to fix the broken outlet, and telling me that we should take a vacation.

You laugh as you try to flip an omelet in the pan. I set the table with our guest china and fill glasses with orange juice. We pepper each other with ideas about where to go, making plans to do research at the library. Tahiti, Paris, and New Zealand we shout excited about starting our planning. You bring breakfast to the table and we sit and continue to talk. I’m not sure how much time passes, our phones and computers lay somewhere abandoned in their futility. The sun is high up in the sky before we start to clean up the kitchen. You sit at the table with your feet propped up in the chair next to you. I look back at you from the sink. Our eyes meet and you smile.