And i don’t mean the John Mayer kind. It really quite an accurate indicator
of what is going on inside us. Maybe this is a new phenomenon for just me.
I don’t know, sometimes my voice will quaver, my hands shake, my heart
will beat so hard, you could feel it through my clothes and yours if you were
to hug me. I had a couple of surgeries five weeks ago and for some reason,
an inexplicable reason, I cried. And I don’t mean just teared up. I cried
all day. From the moment I gave my credit card to the surgeon’s secretary
to hearing the mean nurse’s instructions, to the IV, to the multiple,
multiple nice nurses trying to get me to stop, to the doctor before
he prayed with me, after he prayed with me. Inconsolable.
I just turned my back to the room and face to the wall of that pale yellow
scuff-marked wall. Not fear, not fear of pain, certainly not fear of death,
not fear of missing anything, not anxiety over any certain thing, Well, maybe.
I think it was. This is why people journal–to figure out things. I was anxious
that I couldn’t get enough done, that I wouldn’t be able to get enough done
in the days that followed. And really, it wasn’t that I timed it all so miserably,
six weeks before a wedding, nine days before I had five children more
or less home AND the fiance, ten days before the first engagement party,
two weeks before I started my thesis, four weeks for the out-of-town
engagement party. No, I really know lying there scaring the nurses
with 145/95 (normally 90/60) blood pressure
and making my doctor frustrated with me that even though I had
stayed up till 1:30 staining my deck, and written thesis
drafts much of the summer, and read the book of poems I have to review
for a publication a couple of times, and left town twice to write, and tried
my hardest every single day, that I still couldn’t/can’t/won’t/ever/get
everything done. That does not feel liberating to me. That feels like a
defeat. Your body tells you though, tells you things if you listen. It’s
just that I never, ever want to hear what it’s telling me. Sleep. Eat. Rest.
Cry. Give up. Quit. If my body doesn’t like how I’m treating it, then
it’s just going to have to rebel a little harder.
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