The only thing in the apartment that seemed helpful were the Palazzo Pants I had bought myself pre-surgery, but even they came with a side of disrespect- no pockets.
Today’s objective- relax and recover. Considering the mind of the person being assigned this task, they would probably have a better shot of climbing Pike’s Peak, blindfolded with one arm tied back.
They are me, sorry. I slip in and out of the first and third person, a lot. Constant internal permanence struggle that nobody is interested in these days because suddenly all humans are so self-aware of the internal mechanics that keep them emotionally healthy that they don’t genuinely experience anything at all. Must be nice, honestly. Relaxing and Recovering never includes judging and yet somehow, I always find a way to smuggle a bit in and smear it everywhere. Sadness is the best adhesive.
I do feel sorry though for anyone on the planet who cannot, wouldn’t, and never have had the chance to enjoy a tiny farmer’s market tester-sized spoonful of raw honey. What a miserable existence indeed. All the sensations, there’s nothing like it truly. Comparisons are the gateway drug to misery though so I can’t do any more of that today either. This day is dedicated to relaxing and recovering.
My son made it safely home to Ohio yesterday and thank goodness, I can’t be tolerated for more than a week by anybody and he did his level best. Of course, I think that he and pretty much anyone who actually gets to know me well would kill me like a lame horse to put me out of my misery if they could get away with it and I’m grateful at least for that.
I am literally the source of all my pain and anguish and suffering always but particularly at the moment as surgery doesn’t fix the problem overnight, it takes time for the body to reacclimate, reorganize and recommit to living. I have to use my thinking minutes aiding and not abetting this process and overlooking the scabs and scars and pus and discharges and aches that come along with getting better. Sloughing off oozes against my will like a sucker. And if your body is better does that automatically make your mind better?
Ha, I’m here to testify, sadly, no. Not really. But the other thing that I keep forgetting is that nothing is wrong with me- just because not that many people on the waterball experience the world the way that I do, or will admit to it before they commit suicide it doesn’t mean that I’m bad or wrong. I’m not broken just bent. Usefully irrelevant. Relevantly useless. Present. Now.
The self-aware kids who because therapists after they discovered their own brands of crazy taught me that. And although the cute cut-off denim shorts actually fit now, the swollen abdomen isn’t a fan of the zipper indentations on the skin so close to the laparoscopic glue-sealed stitches, and I’m not going anywhere in them, it’s fucking December and no one will see me in them- I can’t have anything anywhere near my lower half for way more weeks than I care about counting anyhow so Palazzo Pants it is. And six 200mg Motrin caplets. And 64 oz of water. And lots of cannabis. The few other helpful things…

One response to “Consuming and Using Energy”

  1. Da Absentee Avatar

    Get well. As hard as that may seem.


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