Thursday, September 23, 2004


I've spent three days leaning into pain, teetering on the edge of too-much-to-function, trying to strike a compromise between upright and shocking.

The tension leaves me little consciousness for the daily grind. What's left is faint under the blanket of pain. You know how your calves hurt after slogging through the snow and wind, because you're not used to the angle? Yeah, my brain feels like that.

The balancing act exhausts me by midday. So does the physical stress of moving slowly, as if through molasses. Just getting out of my car takes a day off my life.

I'm shortchanging my universe. I've lost the ability to hold the ADHD brain in political/polite check; my coworkers frown across the meeting table at my increased verbosity, my loud outbursts in stillness. My daughter no longer fits in my arms; even on my lap her sudden gleeful shifts shoot fire like bloodrushing from ass to shoulders; it's all I can do not to yell, but how long can one live with honey, Daddy hurts -- can we get down right now, please? When do we lose something irretrievable? How many days of swinging her around for a goodnight hug-and-kiss before the normalcy of gleeful toss-and-embrace is lost to us forever?

On an entirely fever-dream almost-related note, why is it that we say we "threw our back out when, tempting as it is, we're really stuck with it? If I could trade mine in for a new one -- throw this one in the garbage, and grab a new one on the way home someday -- I'd do it in a muffled heartbeat.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:12 PM |

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