Friday, March 12, 2004
I have been healing. This week off was the best idea I've had since the car accident. I've been slowly spreading out to fill my days. As my shoulders literally open up, like a plant unfurling to spring sunlight, so has my heart. I feel like I've rediscovered my joy, even in the midst of the pain. Perhaps because of the pain. Writing ideas, teaching ideas, life ideas--they've been bombarding me. I feel alive again, flawed and secure, because I'm so acutely aware of the insecurity of all of this.
And it has been mostly mundane. The hilarious hydro-fit classes at the Queen Anne community pool, bobbing up and down with the senior citizens in the warm water. Shopping for the laptop stand, new keyboard, and mouse at the alluring Apple store in UVillage--almost buying an iPod, but refraining for the money. Having lunch at Macrina with Vanessa and Melody on a sunny afternoon when they showed up spontaneously at my door. Curled up with The Golden Compass, my back on the heating pad, as I turned pages almost as fast as my eyes could read. Walking around Greenlake with Francoise yesterday, finally able to walk at her purposeful pace. Waiting for the bus in Wallingford after another transformative accupuncture treatment, the sun warm on my head, and me in no hurry to go anywhere. Dancing to Michael Jackson as I set up my computer this morning. Cooking garlic-lemon chicken in the kitchen. Watching episode after episode of Queer as Folk on the dvd player. Taking my first yoga class in three months, deeply humbled by the exeprience of not being able to reach past my knees in forward bend for the pain in my back, when I used to be able to place my palms upon the floor. But feeling it more fully now. And mostly, not talking with that many people or going that many places, except for the daily therapeutic appointment. I've been with myself, mostly. And it has been a wonderful experience.
The headache is down to a dull roar, with flashes of more intense pain every once in a while. And the glorious patches of feeling my own mind without the veil of pain upon it. My back feels strong after all the exercise, the stretches, the nine and ten hours of sleep a night. I've let my body be my wisest guide this week, doing only what it wants. The house is still cluttered. I don't care. I haven't caught up on my emails, because it took me until today to make my computer configuration ergonomically correct. Fine. All the projects I first thought about have simply fallen away. Instead, I'm just being here.
So I'm going back to school next week, on Wednesday, instead of Monday. I could probably go back on Monday, for the way I'm feeling. But I'd like four more days of feeling pretty good before I forge into the fray again. And I'm returning with much more clarity, buoyancy, and joy. And knowing that there's something beyond it.
And I'm writing.
And today, I spent the afternoon with Elliott, who smiled wide when I walked through the door and started crawling toward me as fast as he could. We danced up and down the carpeted floor. I fed him a bottle full of goat's milk, and he giggled so hard he made raspy noises in his throat when he figured out how to bounce the nipple back and forth in his fingers. With his chin covered in milk, he looked at me, then nuzzled up to my chest, cuddling. Who cares about the t-shirt? He watched in amazement as I drank cold water from a clear glass, emphasizing the "Ahhhh" at the end of every gulp, and then he laughed. We read books. He bounced a blue ball. He bounced up and down on my knee when we watched the breakfast scene from PeeWee's Big Adventure. And he slept on me, his soft breath on my neck, his cheeks growing more and more pink as he slept. Andy worked on the computer in another room, I read seventy pages of my book, and the birds were singing in the big field outside the window.
All feels right with the world. Finally.
And it has been mostly mundane. The hilarious hydro-fit classes at the Queen Anne community pool, bobbing up and down with the senior citizens in the warm water. Shopping for the laptop stand, new keyboard, and mouse at the alluring Apple store in UVillage--almost buying an iPod, but refraining for the money. Having lunch at Macrina with Vanessa and Melody on a sunny afternoon when they showed up spontaneously at my door. Curled up with The Golden Compass, my back on the heating pad, as I turned pages almost as fast as my eyes could read. Walking around Greenlake with Francoise yesterday, finally able to walk at her purposeful pace. Waiting for the bus in Wallingford after another transformative accupuncture treatment, the sun warm on my head, and me in no hurry to go anywhere. Dancing to Michael Jackson as I set up my computer this morning. Cooking garlic-lemon chicken in the kitchen. Watching episode after episode of Queer as Folk on the dvd player. Taking my first yoga class in three months, deeply humbled by the exeprience of not being able to reach past my knees in forward bend for the pain in my back, when I used to be able to place my palms upon the floor. But feeling it more fully now. And mostly, not talking with that many people or going that many places, except for the daily therapeutic appointment. I've been with myself, mostly. And it has been a wonderful experience.
The headache is down to a dull roar, with flashes of more intense pain every once in a while. And the glorious patches of feeling my own mind without the veil of pain upon it. My back feels strong after all the exercise, the stretches, the nine and ten hours of sleep a night. I've let my body be my wisest guide this week, doing only what it wants. The house is still cluttered. I don't care. I haven't caught up on my emails, because it took me until today to make my computer configuration ergonomically correct. Fine. All the projects I first thought about have simply fallen away. Instead, I'm just being here.
So I'm going back to school next week, on Wednesday, instead of Monday. I could probably go back on Monday, for the way I'm feeling. But I'd like four more days of feeling pretty good before I forge into the fray again. And I'm returning with much more clarity, buoyancy, and joy. And knowing that there's something beyond it.
And I'm writing.
And today, I spent the afternoon with Elliott, who smiled wide when I walked through the door and started crawling toward me as fast as he could. We danced up and down the carpeted floor. I fed him a bottle full of goat's milk, and he giggled so hard he made raspy noises in his throat when he figured out how to bounce the nipple back and forth in his fingers. With his chin covered in milk, he looked at me, then nuzzled up to my chest, cuddling. Who cares about the t-shirt? He watched in amazement as I drank cold water from a clear glass, emphasizing the "Ahhhh" at the end of every gulp, and then he laughed. We read books. He bounced a blue ball. He bounced up and down on my knee when we watched the breakfast scene from PeeWee's Big Adventure. And he slept on me, his soft breath on my neck, his cheeks growing more and more pink as he slept. Andy worked on the computer in another room, I read seventy pages of my book, and the birds were singing in the big field outside the window.
All feels right with the world. Finally.
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