Physical healing

Well, further healing happened last night and today, but I am ridiculously exhausted tonight. By about eight o’clock I was already ready to go to sleep for the night, though I wasn’t even halfway to the house where I am house-sitting for a week. Now, hours later – because I had to be shown certain things by the owners before I could start getting ready for bed – I can barely think, my eyes burn, and I can’t even seem to keep myself from folding forward in a hunch while sitting. I am wiped, yet again. And I didn’t even get that nap in again today… bummer, right?

There only seems to be another couple or few days of recovery needed for my injuries from Friday evening. Though, I could see my knee needing a bit longer. My hands are doing really well, and only seem to need another day or two to be able to work almost entirely normally again.

For now, though, I rest and I sleep and I let everything heal. Then, after healing, I can jump right back into the exercise and the running on which I am getting very behind(!!!). (I never imagined having such a setback on this 100-mile goal… oops.)

Post-a-day 2020

Exhausted Healing

It is really rather amazing how, when the body is healing itself, one’s overall energy level seems significantly decreased. Without any conscious effort, most of our effort is going to our injuries, cell by cell, drop by drop, healing. I reached the end of my day, and I didn’t even have 4000 steps today, though I usually average over eight by 6 p.m., and sometimes reach over 14,000 before bed. However, I found myself already exhausted, and, now, lying in bed, I can barely keep my eyes open to write this. I am just so wiped.

And, by the way, I even took a two-hour nap this afternoon.

(!!!)

Frankly, I was already wiped only eleven hours after I awoke this morning, which is only nine hours of being awake.

It seems utterly ridiculous. And yet, after that amazing nap this afternoon, I noticed a significant improvement in my knee. I have a feeling that I will sleep even better tonight because of it. Though I likely won’t have any muscle growth happening, since I can’t really exercise anything on my body right now, I think a lot more healing will happen tonight, while I don’t even have to expel the energy of those nine waking hours and 3800 steps…

It is just fascinating, this body. And I am ever grateful for it and its glorious magic and skills and determination to work beautifully. ūüėČ

Post-a-day 2020

Another day dawns

Tomorrow will be the first day of testing out a new position. I always have high hopes about all of my new endeavors, and this one is no different from the rest… I hope it goes magically well and that all the people involved live better lives because of my involvement, myself included.

Tomorrow, another day dawns, another path begins, another adventure strikes to flame‚Ķ And I am so terrified, so excited, I can hardly sleep. It feels like a very good sign. ūüėČ

Here’s hoping‚Ķ Cheers!

Post-a-day 2020

The Fall

So, here’s the short but sweet – well, you get the idea – version of what happened yesterday evening around 5:30. ¬†I had a pretty bad fall at approximately .68 miles into my run. ¬†I was supposed to do a little 5k to be in a sort of solidarity with a student I tutor, because we had to miss tutoring yesterday due to her mandatory participation in a 5k with her school. ¬†(She is neither fan of outdoorsy things nor of running.) ¬†I had already run just over that on Thursday, and I didn’t necessarily feel like getting out to run and do a whole workout (core upon return to the house, of course), but I’d told her I would do it on Friday, and I knew I always felt great after such a workout anyway. ¬†So, I headed out. ¬†It was an amazing start to the run, and the weather was great.

However, when my eye was caught by a mother doing a sort of super-protective stance between the road and her small child, possibly as a means of preventing his sprinting suddenly to the street when a truck was passing, that great feeling changed quickly.  Since I was caught off guard by her stance, and, of course, I had to process what I was seeing before moving on in life, I was mentally focused on the mother, even though I turned my head back to the road ahead of me.  And, though, I was looking at the road again, it was not quite enough time to process that one of the manhole covers a step and a half ahead of me, while it was supposed to be flush with the road around its rim, and concave for the actual cover, the indefinite-looking roadwork of the street turned that flush edge into a lip.

And yes, I did trip on that lip.

Put simply, I flew forward. ¬†I got another step and a half-ish under me as I began to fall, but I was already turning Superman, and I knew I was not going to recover my feet. ¬†I had a brief thought of not wanting to fall simply so as not to freak out the poor onlookers – it¬†has to suck to witness someone fall hard or be part of some accident… I regularly think of how terribly frightening it must have been for that angel driving behind me when I went down on my scooter on the road that night last year. ¬†Nonetheless, I saw before the thought even finished that, oh, well, they were just going to have to witness it, and I was just going not to worry about it, and to do what I needed to do for my own health and well-being.

And so, I went down, and I went down not just hard, but with a hard forward slide. ¬†Man, it was like I were Speedy Gonzales or something, because there was no way I could have been running very slowly to slide that hard and that far, and so quickly. ¬†And I always thought my longer running was slow. ¬†Good thing I’ve been working on improving that for myself… it really paid off yesterday evening. ¬†Not.

(Note: I’m not at all bashing improving one’s skills or athletic abilities – not at all. ¬†I am merely having a fun thought and play at how, in this particular instance, being better at the sport actually made for a worse situation. ¬†Think, I might not even have fallen, if I hadn’t been going so fast. ¬†However, that changes nothing in my plans to continue to improve in my running.)

Anyway, so I went down, and I knew people saw, and I had slight concern for them, but also didn’t care and didn’t have the mental space for almost any thoughts aside from dealing with my own body’s safety and survival at present.

It really sucked. ¬†I immediately rolled to my back. ¬†I was just lying in the street then, tears pouring from down my temples and upper cheeks, as I quickly examined my hands. ¬†They were a total mess. ¬†Gashed terribly, tissue fluid and blood already everywhere, and grainy gravel bits of all sizes and dark colors everywhere on them, mixed in with the blood and peeling skin and tissue fluid. ¬†My knee was stinging slightly, and I had a feeling it was much worse than it was letting on, hidden beneath my spectacular running pants – I could look at that more later, perhaps when I got home… it only would get worse once I let my attention turn to it. ¬†The pants had held up, so I knew they would hold in most of the bleeding that likely was underneath. ¬†Not that I spent more than a moment of thought on my knee… I just glanced and moved on mentally.

My hands… oh, my hands needed help.

While I was dong this self-evaluation and feeling growing intense pain, crying somewhat calmly yet entirely uncontrollably, the mother was talking to me from her spot back on the sidewalk.

Was I okay? ¬†Did I want them to call an ambulance? ¬†Did I want them to call somebody else for me? ¬†I answer with obvious shaking of my head to all of them. ¬†I was grateful to hear, when the husband was trying to move along, the wife (mother of the little kid) said pointedly, “No, she’s not okay. She’s really hurt.” ¬†Though, I only slightly processed it, what with the pain and my own mental focus at the time. ¬†When she asked if they could get me anything, I managed, after another several seconds of gasping-like breathing, to ask, “Do you have any water?” ¬†After which I resumed the intense breathing. ¬†The crying, of course, never paused.

I was still lying on my back in the road, and it had been at least a minute at this point. ¬†Granted, I was to the side of the road, but I was definitely entirely in the road, at least a yard or two from the curb. ¬†So, I ask again about the water, figuring out how to get water, if these folks don’t have any, and she answers to me that they do. ¬†A few moments later, I hear someone begin to approach, and a hard plastic cup being set on the driveway next to me. ¬†I say next to me, because it was perpendicular to the road, st the specific spot where I lay. ¬†It was not, however, actually very near to me. ¬†It was at least three yards away from me.

“Honey, just¬†bring it to her, ” I hear the wife say, followed by the husband’s hushed, “No.” ¬†Her response was borderline furious, and something within me felt like there would be a rage in their house tonight.

Alas, there was water, and I needed it for my hands. ¬†There was no possibility of my getting up from my spot in the road, so, I stuck my hands above my head, Superman-y again, and rolled two-ish turns toward the driveway. ¬†I then forced myself to sit up – though I’m really not sure how, seeing as my hands were no real use at that point. ¬†But I grabbed the little blue sippy-type cup, and started carefully tipping the limited, precious water onto one hand at a time. ¬†And it hurt. ¬†And I knew it wouldn’t be enough – there was far too much blood and dirt that wasn’t going to come off by just dripping a single cup-full of water onto it with no real rubbing.

Not that I wanted to rub my hands…, but I needed to do it.

A truck driving past as I fell, – the one from which the mother had possibly been”protecting” her child – backed all the way up the block, and stopped even with me in the road (in which I am still sitting, of course, but I’m by the edge now). ¬†It was, for lack of better descriptors, what I would call a Mexican work truck. ¬†Likely, the guy had been working on building a house somewhere down the road – one of the new builds I had passed on my way there, perhaps. ¬†The driver exited the truck and was doing something with the truck bed for a minute. ¬†I was almost certain what would come next – it’s just a part of the culture, you know?

After a few moments, I finally comprehend that the guy is standing near me, setting down a bottle of water. ¬†He then hands me a white piece of cloth and says, “Clean. ¬†I’s clean.” ¬†(That’s “it’s” without the t, by the way.). ¬†I could barely form any words in any language, though I knew he spoke Spanish and possibly almost no English. ¬†I believe I thanked him then. ¬†I set down the sippy cup back on the driveway, and picked up the icy cold bottle of water. ¬†This will hurt, I think, but I know I need to do it.

I struggle for a few moments in my efforts to open the bottle, but I cannot manage it – this simple task is impossible for me in this moment – and so I set the bottle back down on the ground. ¬†Within seconds, the guy was back at my side, picking up and opening the bottle for me. ¬†He then holds it out in a way that I know he is offering to hold it and pour for me, and so I extend my hands and allow him to pour. ¬†I cough out some tears at the pain of it, but we can both see that it is helping clear away the mess. ¬†When I’ve wiped away as much as I can tolerate, I nod and thank him a couple or few times, as I press the white cloth into my hands, absorbing what excess still remains, and shooting pains into my hands at every press. ¬†I was barely able to see his upside down face through my tears. ¬†But I saw him and thanked his face, even if I couldn’t see his eyes.

Meanwhile, the couple stood with their child on the sidewalk, watching, mumbling. ¬†As the Mexican guy stepped back into his truck, a white Mercedes that had been briefly waiting, with the guy and me in full view on the side of the road, and his truck parked in the middle of it – keep in mind, this is a neighborhood road, not some throughway or anything – decides to squeeze between me and the truck, now that the guy isn’t standing next to me anymore. ¬†When the mother on the sidewalk commented with fury at the fact that the woman had seen us and easily could have just gone around the block – and these are¬†tiny blocks, by the way, in a traditional square arrangement – I genuinely agreed with her. ¬†Though, I also felt sad at the driver of the Mercedes. ¬†How miserable must one be to be such an a** during an obvious “situation” of someone sprawled in the road?

Anyway… I really liked the wife/mother. ¬†Not so much the paranoia of the husband, though. ¬†Which, by the way, he picked up that cup after I set it back down to give it back to them… Just saying.

Okay, so everyone moves on. ¬†I have my keys and my phone again, and I roll myself the rest of the way fully onto the driveway. ¬†I lay there a handful of minutes, still crying. ¬†I hear a dog collar approaching on the sidewalk behind me, and am unconcerned. ¬†Minus¬†the tiny hope that the owner won’t be too distraught at the sight.

It turned out to be an older guy, out walking his dog. ¬†He asked if I was okay, and I carefully told him that I wasn’t but that I would be – I could talk now. ¬†Kind of. ¬†He offered to bring me bandages, saying that he lived just right nearby, and I said that that actually would be really great. ¬†His walk turned into a cautious jog of concern, as he raced around the corner, heading to his unseen home. ¬†I hardly even knew how he looked. ¬†I still couldn’t process such details.

And so, when her returned a couple minutes later, I sat myself up again, and got to work. ¬†I poured the hydrogen peroxide on my knew first, then my left hand, and both were okay. ¬†It hurt a bit, but it really just foamed and mostly was okay. ¬†The guy was surprised at this. ¬†He’d even said he would look away while I poured the peroxide, clearly indicating that he didn’t want me to be embarrassed at my likely reaction of intense pain. ¬†An old man had approached at this point, and was asking questions. ¬†I had already worked hard enough to answer them for the first guy – what happened; yeah, I’m definitely hurt; I’ll be okay, just not yet; I live about .62 miles that way – so I let him answer them for me. ¬†He didn’t seem to mind, once he saw that I clearly wasn’t up to it. ¬†Then, while they chatted, I poured the peroxide on my right hand. ¬†And that, my friends, was the exact memory I had had of hydrogen peroxide from my childhood, and the reason I was terrified of it as an adult. ¬†I had used it a couple times recently, and couldn’t understand why I’d been afraid of it. ¬†My mom had given it to me last year (?), saying that alcohol burns, not hydrogen peroxide. ¬†And it had been true so far in my adult life. ¬†Until this moment, in a stranger’s driveway with two older guys chatting about me and my present situation.

My body took over control as I convulsed and wailed, and even more tears poured from my eyes, the rate increased significantly from the original fall’s. ¬†I felt bad for this pour girl on the side of the road. ¬†I couldn’t imagine how the onlookers felt. ¬†(There was a secret onlooker across the street in the apartments, who had clearly been considering off and on whether to come help. ¬†She, too, looked hispanic, and I fear her concern was one not only of COVID-19, but mostly of a fear of not being able to communicate. ¬†I don’t exactly exude Spanish (or any language other than English, really), so I get it.

Anyway, so that really sucked, and I had to pour the painful cold water on it to make the pain go down at least somewhat – I couldn’t take it anymore. ¬†Funny how that cold water was suddenly not so big a deal anymore, right? ¬†Eventually, I blew my nose a bunch more with the rest of the paper towels the guy had brought, and I¬†put a compress on my knee. ¬†I had raised the pant leg while still in the street, and, aside from the clear layer of¬†skin that was plastered to the fabric, my knee didn’t look like it needed too much immediate attention. ¬†So, after the quick rinse of water and the peroxide, it was good to go, in terms of germ-prevention and safety until I made it home.

Now, all this time, I had been evaluating how I would be getting home. ¬†No family lives anywhere near me, so that was out as an option, if I couldn’t walk it. ¬†I considered a high school acquaintance who lived nearby. ¬†I was rather sure he would come get me and drive me home, if I really needed, but I didn’t want to turn to that except as a last resort. ¬†So, my options were really either to walk or to run home. ¬†If I ended up being able to run, I knew I would end up finishing the 5k. ¬†It was a slim chance, but it wouldn’t’ have surprised me. ¬†However, walking was the most likely of the three options. ¬†And, at this point in time, I noticed that I still had not felt that moment of,¬†Okay, let’s¬†get up, that we always get at some point after a fall. ¬†And, so far as I could tell, it was nowhere nearby either. ¬†I wasn’t going anywhere for a while. ¬†I mean, I hadn’t even fully stopped crying at this point, and it had been ten minutes already.

I had started “chatting” with the younger of the two older guys, during the times that I could use my words, and, after I had finished all my dressings, ¬†he offered yet again to drive me home – “We can put the windows down, be safe…” – I said, at last, “I think that would be a very good idea,” nodding and speaking with obvious effort, pinches of tears falling. ¬†He hopped into action, and took his first aid kit and hydrogen peroxide and, even, the trash back to his home. ¬†A couple minutes later, a Jeep came roaring around the corner, windows down.

I struggled to find the least painful way, and managed myself to my feet without too much disruption. ¬†But, oh, did it hurt to use my right leg/knee… ¬†The guy opened the passenger door for me, and I struggled my way into the seat. ¬†I fumbled for a while, throwing in involuntary cries of pain, getting the seatbelt on myself and shutting the door… I just couldn’t use my hands almost at all: no pressure on them from the outside, and no muscle flexing within them.

We chatted on the brief drive back that almost-three-quarters-of-a-mile path, exchanged names, and wished one another well as we arrived and I struggled my way out of the Jeep.  I thanked him over and over again, both during the ride and at the end of it.  And also before it, too.  And then I slowly and painfully stumbled up the walkways and stairs, managed to unlock and open the door, and get myself inside.

I had sent my mom a couple photos after the first group had left, before I lay back down on the driveway, and then had called her when the guy had gone to get his Jeep. ¬†I had known that she was driving before then, so I waited to call when I knew she would be able to see the photos. ¬†At my first, “Hey,” she knew something had happened. ¬†“What happened?” she asked, concerned, but not freaking out. ¬†She probably had figured I’d had some terrible interaction with someone mean – that’s usually the answer to¬†What happened?. ¬†I told her to look at the photo I’d sent her. ¬†She looked, and understood immediately. ¬†I told her the present situation and that I thought I would be okay. ¬†Now that I was home, I called her again, just to let her know that I was there, and also to see what she recommended I do to help myself at this point.

She prescribed me some time with an ice pack of sorts and an elevated leg, a shower, and then just before bed, rubbing gently hydrogen peroxide into my wounds with a Q-tip (cotton, you see), since I couldn’t get all the dirt off my hands.

The shower was long and hot and extremely painful at first, but it helped significantly by the end of it. ¬†The hydrogen peroxide left me, yet again, wailing involuntarily in pain, pouring tears, and practically shouting half-comprehensible phrases and annoyances. ¬†By the way, blowing your nose with a tissue and non-usable thumbs¬†sucks. ¬†That’s to say the least.

When I woke up in the middle of the night with a need to pee, I not only had to detach my palms from the sheets (painfully, of course), due to sticking tissue fluid, but hobble down the stairs, squat down to the toilet seat, and then attempt to wipe myself with a clumsy and burning left hand (the right was a solid no-go).  This repeated itself when my alarms went off at five forty-something to get me up for test proctoring today.

Today, my knee¬†hurts. More like my upper shin than my kneecap, but it still hurts. ¬†It’s kind of like a super bruise feeling, but the skin doesn‚Äôt really hurt. ¬†My hands, however, have been bad. I still have no opposable thumbs for the time being… if I try to use them, I involuntarily wail from the instant pain in my lower palm. The right is the worst. ¬†The left, starting this evening, has actually started to come around a bit. ¬†They were both still producing tissue fluid 20 hours after the incident, but have since mostly ceased. ¬†But any sharp movements or pressure, and they resume it. ¬†They felt like fire last night period. ¬†Tonight, they only get that feeling when they are either bumped or wet. ¬†Or, of course, I attempt to use my thumb for any kind of grip, or clench my fingers in an attempt to grip anything. ¬†(I almost couldn’t get out of my room this morning, because the doorknob is very thin¬†and takes a lot of pressure to get open…) ¬†In fact, it is extremely difficult even to type this right now.

All in all, that totally sucked, and it still sucks now, but I am mending safely, it seems.  And I am grateful for that.

On that note, I shall sleep.  But first, the photos:

This was yesterday, after rinsing off and rolling into the driveway.

This was the darned manhole cover with the “lip”.

This was after my shower last night.

I had to set the phone timer for this one.

And these were this evening, about 25 hours after the fall. ¬†I had to set the timer on these, too, because I couldn’t both hold the phone and click the shutter button… no thumbs, remember. ¬†(I tell you, it is one thing just not to have opposable thumbs. ¬†It is something else entirely not to have them in a world designed for opposable thumbs. ¬†I am having to learn drastic new ways of completing the formerly simplest of tasks[!!!].)

Post-a-day 2020

‚ÄėTis but a flesh wound

… but. goodness, does it hurt!

And this was after I had poured water on them to clean the dirt and rocks and excess blood off. And my right hand was even worse, but it was balancing the phone for the photo.

I’ll share more about the adventure tomorrow, but, for now, I have very limited use of my opposable thumbs, so typing on my phone is extremely difficult. Also, I have to be up before six tomorrow morning, and things have been significantly slowed getting ready for bed tonight because of the fall. Hasta tomorrow!

Post-a-day 2020

Squirrels on the loose

My mom asked me this week if I have been noticing more squirrels than usual lately.  Whenever she is out somewhere, usually driving, she feels like she has been seeing loads more squirrels than usual.  At first, I was thinking about mating seasons, and wondering whether we were at a time of year where there just happen to be lots of recently-added squirrels in the mix.

But then something else occurred to me… and then she said that something else. “I¬†just wonder if, because everyone had been staying home and not going anywhere for a while, she began.

And I finished, barely able to restrain my laugh before finishing, “No one was out driving to run them over??”

We both laughed. ¬†But we both considered the idea as a genuine possibility. ¬†Lost of things were affected this summer by people’s not going into offices and work anywhere near the typical amount…, perhaps this was just another of those effects.

And perhaps not, but the idea is a lot more fun to consider that the poor squirrels this summer actually had a chance for once.  Kind of like the air, you know?

I still laugh when I think about her specifically bringing it up to me to ask my thoughts on the matter, as though it were something of significance in our lives. ¬†Just in the squirrels’, I suppose, but we both totally loved considering it, nonetheless.

Post-a-day 2020

Smash of a day

Well, today was interesting.  Not because of what I did, but how I felt about what I did, both while doing it and now, at the end of the day.

You see, I woke up around six this morning, and discovered after a bit that I definitely wasn’t going back to sleep. ¬†There had been a Romeo & Juliet film I’d been interested in seeing, but had determined not to watch last night. ¬†So, I pulled it up and started it. ¬†After the marriage, though, when the scene began that was basically guaranteed to end with Romeo’s cousin dying – T was a jerk, in my opinion, so I never seemed to mind so much about him – I was done. ¬†It was cute, but I was over the production, and not interested in watching the rest of the sad story in such an un-intriguing presentation.

Scrolling through quickly to find something else to keep me company as I prepared possibly to fall back asleep after a while, I came across the show¬†Smash. ¬†I’ve seen the preview for it every time I’ve watched the¬†Burlesque dvd (the one with Christina Aguilera), and have been longing to watch the show ever since that first time. ¬†It’s a story all about these people in NYC creating a musical focused around Marylin Monroe.

Suffice it to say that I was sucked in. ¬†AND there have been several surprised members of the cast, whom I know from other films or stage productions (e.g. Jack Davenport [Commodore Norrington] and Leslie Odom, Jr. [Aaron Burr, sir]). ¬†That has been amazing, along with the show itself being well written and well directed and produced, and the songs and voices are fabulous. ¬†I’m a huge fan of this show. ¬†And, in case you didn’t know, I’m not a huge fan of almost any shows.

So, I watched this show four about four hours this morning, at which point I joined my mom in her vehicle – mine is having its tires replaced – and dropped her off at work, before going to Costco. ¬†There, I loaded up on groceries – I know, but it’s actually fabulous for groceries – and then got myself a slice of pepperoni pizza to celebrate a belated pepperoni pizza day from this week, as well as a hot dog, which came with a free fountain drink. ¬†So, I got some ice and a bit of Sierra Mist, and then filled the rest of the cup with Pepsi (not many options, really). ¬†

After I unloaded the groceries from the cart into the car, I sat in the car and dove in… and that pizza and hot dog and soda were one of the most satisfying meals I have had in quite a while. ¬†As my mom said, it was an “opioid survival mechanism”, and I knew it, but I didn’t mind it at all. ¬†I’ve been managing my calories lately, for positive health purposes (of course! I’ve actually had a really beautiful development in everything with my food lately, and I’ve been excited to be taking such better care of myself… anyway…), and I was starting to feel that I’d been just a bit lower on my intake than I wanted to be the past couple or few days, so I understood completely my sudden cravings for high-calorie, meat-packed food.

Two meals and about 1500 calories later, I was utterly satisfied, and times two.

I then got my mom’s car back to her and got back home, whereupon I continued watching¬†Smash, eventually ate a banana and sipped some orange juice to take my evening supplements, showered, and then went right back to the show. ¬†Finally, when an episode ended just after midnight, and on a high note for me, I closed it up fo rate night. ¬†I have to be awake and functioning too early tomorrow to be staying up any later.

So, it may seem that the only “good” part of my day was the grocery shopping. ¬†However, I truly think and believe that my entire day today was really great. ¬†Well, my actions today. ¬†Falling down the stairs was totally¬†not cool, but I’m grateful I was turned just enough to land exactly on the meaty part of my left rear cheek – it hurt, and a lot, but it was the most forgiving spot the stair could have picked to make first contact with my body (before sliding me down a ways). ¬†Anyway, this show-watching and pizza- and hotdog-eating day of mine was actually really great for me. ¬†I’ve been actively working on myself in a lot of ways, several of which are rather newer approaches and such… and it hasn’t been easy. ¬†And today was possibly the first time that I was genuinely okay¬†not to do…. loads of stuff… not to be super productive. ¬†It might have been the first time that I allowed myself to take it delightfully easy physically and mentally for the day, and I didn’t stress about it. ¬†I didn’t even listen to an audiobook today, though I had several chances. ¬†I was glad for it. ¬†And I was grateful for it.

And I still am. ¬†ūüôā

P.S. I especially enjoyed the part where one character is talking about how he staked out all night to get tickets to see¬†RENT on Broadway in 1996, and he is saying it to Leslie Odom, Jr.’s character. ¬†For those who don’t understand why this is particularly silly or ironic and enjoyable, Leslie Odom, Jr. joined that production in 1998. ¬†Fun fact. ¬†ūüėÄ

Post-a-day 2020

Back and forth and round and round

Have you ever checked your subconscious for its opinions on things?

My mom introduced me to pendulums years and years ago, and I’ve even had my own for many years now. However, I have very rarely used it in the past. I thought they were spectacular, and, of course, I wanted one. But I think I didn’t really have anything on which I wanted to use it after the initial excitement and enrollment into it. And, over time, it became a passive piece of knowledge: Oh, yes, that is my pendulum. And the thought ended there, no longer calling up the possible practical applications of seen pendulum.

The other day, though – okay, a week ago, now – a friend of mine mentioned a method for discovering and altering our subconscious opinions of things. He relayed loads of details on research behind it and all, but I have found that the best test of such things is just to test it out. No matter what anyone else says, either it works for me or it doesn’t, and I won’t know until I do it.

So, I did it.

And I took on a rather intense idea, one that has lately been at the core and the surface of my life in many ways: I am absolutely worth every bit of all of this effort. There has been a lot of crying and stress for me in recent years and recent months, and each bit has been part of my becoming more myself out of all of it. But that has, of course, not been an easy task. And I have felt that I am needing to convince someone, anyway, that it is all worth the effort. All of these struggles in pursuit of my best self are worth it, right? Yes, of course.

And yet…

So, I asked the pendulum for yes and no and neutral. Then I stated, “I am absolutely worth every bit of all of this effort.” And, without a doubt, it gave me a resounding no.

I actually laughed. I felt relieved, really. So much internal struggle over this exact concept was not for naught. I genuinely was struggling to believe it myself (according to this practice, on a subconscious level), which, in a way, made every stride forward that much more difficult to take.

And so, following the steps of this method for transforming the subconscious opinion, I asked if it was okay and safe and acceptable to change this opinion right now: yes. And then I went to task, meditating in a certain way and being withheld and inviting in anything and everything that might come up as I repeated the statement over and over again, until I felt a shift within myself.

“When it happens, you’ll know,” he told me.

And I did.

And I discovered that it was so much more than I had ever considered. This idea wasn’t just about me and my actions and efforts – it was about everyone around me and their efforts and struggles, too. I believed somewhat that I was worth my own time and effort, but I couldn’t possibly have been worth everyone else’s… and yet…

As I worked through being with every comment and idea and issue and experience and emotion that arose in my repetitions of the statement, I ended up with two shifts. One, quickly, was around myself, and the other, after a much longer time, was about the whole world. And then, after I opened my eyes and rejoined the world around me, I asked the pendulum again.

“I am absolutely worth every bit of all of this effort,” I said with confidence and conviction I had never even considered associating with such a concept.

And it was a resounding yes from the pendulum.

From myself.

And that was really, really cool.

And slightly terrifying, when I considered how powerful this tiny activity was and would be, should I choose to use it going forward with things.

Tonight, one week later, after seeing the very clear results of that one transformation of my opinion on one idea, I sat down with my list of things about my book writing and the mental struggles I have had with getting myself actually to sit down and do it. Part of me was terrified I’d discover that I already believed them all to be true, yet still wasn’t writing. And part of me was terrified to discover that I didn’t actually have faith in myself, this the not writing. But I knew it would be only beneficial to look into it all, and unhelpful not to do so. So, I did it.

And it was amazing to see how things aligned with my actions so perfectly. I do believe that I am a great writer, despite any lack of credentials or ‘the right education background’ or whatever. I can write extremely well, when I want to do so, and I happen to be rather good at story-telling, which transitions easily into writing. That’s part of why I’ve stuck with it over the years, and I’ve kept coming back to books over and over again, despite my failures to make a book. But there were other bits that didn’t quite align with what I wanted, and instead aligned with my lack of sitting down to write those desired books. And I went to work on those, following the simple yet intense steps. In the end, my whole being felt light and excited, and every statement was a solid yes from the pendulum.

It was awesome. And slightly terrifying, too…, but in a good way, and mostly awesome. ūüėÄ

Now that those are transformed in my head, we shall see what happens in the very near future. ;). I am quite curious to find out.

Post-a-day 2020

Stuffed Love

Which is very unlike a stuffed shirt, by the way… ¬†ūüėõ

Tonight, I snuggled up with several feather pillows and my extra-large white bear that was given to me by my paternal grandparents when I was probably only single-digits years old, and watched¬†Frozen, while sitting (or lying) on my bed. ¬†And it was delightful. ¬†I don’t know why people let go of stuffed animals and piles of pillows in their adulthood. ¬†Even in college, I had several stuffed animals with me at school.

The year I lived in an apartment with a friend of mine (still campus housing, but an apartment, nonetheless), we had full sized beds as part of the furnishings. ¬†A different friend was staying the night, and, as we were getting into bed to go to sleep, she thought it was hilarious yet adorably wonderful that I had stuffed animals in my bed, their having clearly been my nighttime snuggle buddies so far that year. ¬†She, delighted, declared it like “a jungle!”, and snapped a photo of me snuggling in with the animals. ¬†Of course, I made total room for her in the bed, and it wasn’t crowded for us or anything. ¬†But, when I didn’t have physical company in my bed, I preferred having stuffed company to being on my own with the sheets.

To this day, I like to feel that¬†something is around me when I sleep. ¬†When I get to sleep in a bed with a person, some small piece of me has to touch that person, in order for me to sleep fully at ease. ¬†When there isn’t a person, I just like having contact with something presence-marking. ¬†These days, that typically means a stuffed dog strewn across my thighs, and my arms casually relaxed across my rib cage, creating just enough pressure for comfort and subconscious reassurance… ¬†Perhaps it was because I grew up with siblings always around, older than I, and so I always wanted to sleep in¬†their beds with¬†them…, because they were my older siblings and I loved them and looked up to them. ¬†And then, when they weren’t around, I ended up sharing the bed with my mom or my dad, depending on in whose house I was staying that night. ¬†(Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to stay in my dad’s bed, because of the divorce stuff, but, with my active history of terrible nightmares as a child, I voluntarily would creep down to his bedroom and sneak onto the side of the California king. ¬†Sometimes he noticed before morning, but I made enough of a fuss about not wanting to be alone upstairs, and he was half asleep, anyway, so he let it go. ¬†Naturally, my mom was annoyed at this, so I kind of just stopped telling her about it. ¬†It wasn’t even an every night thing, either, but, when I needed it, I needed it, you know? ¬†And then it was just habit and comforting, even when I didn’t need it anymore.)

By the time it really didn’t bother me so much to sleep on my own, and the nightmares had mostly subsided, my sisters moved into my dad’s house. ¬†And, just as part of spending time together, I ended up often sleeping in the one sister’s bed, and then always sleeping in the other’s, once she moved in, too. ¬†We always had a habit of talking after the lights were out, kind of just chatting about anything or nothing – whatever we wanted or needed that night. ¬†It wasn’t usually for very long – maybe five or ten minutes at most – but it was always something I loved, and something I didn’t want to miss out on having by sleeping elsewhere. ¬†There were even the occasions where we all three shared a bed together… those were really great memories for me. ¬†I was literally surrounded by love for me.

Perhaps that’s really why I want stuffed animals in my bed, or pillows, or the touch of someone…, because that is one of the strongest memories I have of being loved and wanted and appreciated and cared for… surrounded by love as I went to sleep at night.

Ha… I’m noticing now how, even at dance events, when we occasionally have crammed three grown people into a queen sized bed, I’ve been totally okay and comfortable with it, and even delighted about it. ¬†The physical presence represents so strongly for me the experience of love, of being loved. ¬†I guess that all goes back to growing as a baby in the womb, huh? ¬†We turn to the fetal position in times of extreme need for love and help… that feeling of being held all around by a safe, loving, omnipotent source of life. ¬†So…, yeah… I’m beginning to think that stuffed animals are more than okay and acceptable – they’re actually a really good idea. ¬†They can help to provide the comfort that we can’t seem to provide on our own, when no one else is physically – or emotionally – around us…

Yeah…

Post-a-day 2020

Surprise, again

It still takes me by surprise when people display extreme appreciation or love for me (outside of my family, anyway).

I’m working on that.

But I am grateful that I am now at the point of noticing this reaction, such that I can begin to accept the appreciation and love without restraint, thereby helping myself believe that the whole reason that person loves and appreciates me so is because he or she experienced who I truly am…, and it is no wonder that person loves and appreciates me…, because that person really is amazing. ūüôā

Post-a-day 2020