And I’m such a nice fellow. It just isn’t fair.
Today’s evidence of the malign nature of the cosmos vis-à-vis yours truly happened today when I went to Wound Care.
I felt perfectly fine and was looking to my twice a week pampering (sorta kinda) but when I went to sit down on the exam table (or whatever you call it), I slipped right off it and on to my knees.
I’m lucky the bed thingy was set to be low to the ground or I might have been seriously hurt. As it is, all that happened is that my knees are mildly sore and my ability to relax and trust the universe took yet another hit.
You know, I keep telling myself to relax and not take life so seriously, but things like this come out of nowhere and make that very difficult.
i suppose if I were as happy go lucky as I aspire to me, that kind of thing would just bonce off me impenetrable bubble of self-righting optimism.
I’d just say, “Huh. That was weird. ” and then go on with my life without ever thinking about it again.
And part of me admires and envies people with that kind of resilience. My Moon in Sagittarius thinks that’s the best way to be, hands down.
But I am not a Sagittarius, I’m a Taurus with Sagittarius tendencies, and so this kind of life just spanking me out of nowhere upsets me.
It’s just not fair. There was no way I could have seen that coming.
How could I? I still have no idea what the hell happened.
I know I wasn’t feeling dizzy at the time. So it wasn’t that. That turns the spotlight to something weird happening with the muscles in my butt that made them not work right to grip the surface of the bed, or whatever it is they do to keep this from happening most of the time.
I know I can’t blame the bed because I sat on it just fine after that.
So I dunno. At least this happened when I was in a room full of nurses and so they were right on top of it, checking my blood pressure with the inflate-o-cuff thing to see if there was an answer there.
There was not. Blood oxygen was fine too.
And for me, that’s just bloody typical, innit? I swear to God, one day I am going to be in the ER covered in flames and bleeding out of both eyeballs and the doctor will be saying, “Well, your tests all turned out normal, so we think you’re faking it. ”
That image occurred to me as I sat there with the nurse working on my foot wounds as I wondered what the fuck happened to me.
Even when I’m upset, I’m hilarious. Bitterly hilarious.
Anyhow, I guess things are okay now. I haven’t felt woozy or found myself suddenly and inexplicitly lying on the floor or anything.
That means that theoretically it could all happen again at any moment. After all, if I don’t know what happened or why, I can’t take steps to prevent it, can I?
But I am in deep dish doodoo if suddenly I can’t even sit safely.
Sitting is half of what I do all day! Sit in front of this computer!
The other half is lying in bed, and I would hate for that to be my only option. I know from my hospital stays that staying in bed all the time sucks.
Next time I am in there, I am going to come up with reasons to get up and out of bed and maybe sit in a chair for a while unless I am specifically instructed not to.
You have no idea how good it can feel just to sit.
More after the break.
Nothing on my mind
But I’ve never let that stop me before.
I think the reason I have nothing in particular on my mind right now is that some very deep mental healing processes are taking up a hell of a lot of my brain’s CPU cycles, leaving very little left over for stray thoughts or random pondering.
Fine by me. I can wait. My mental overflow generally goes to waste anyhow as it produces very little except rambling verbal expectorations, so I am perfectly content to just sit on the sidelines while my deeper self takes care of business.
I have pondered where exactly my genius comes some, and I think it may be exactly that kind of overflow. I spent a lot of my childhood bored out of my proverbial gourd sitting in classrooms where I was not even allowed to read to entertain myself.
I guess to a (bad) teacher, me finishing the work in moments then curling up with a good book looks a tad disrespectful.
Well then challenge me, bitch.
Anyhow, trapped as I was, the only thing I could really do is think about things. And I was already inclined to live in the world between my ears due to that being where I took refuge when I was being raped. The massive boredom only caused that to become deeper and more complex as my mind, bereft of fresh input, instead worked on connecting and correlating everything that was already in there.
Thus, a deep understanding of how things work emerged. From an early age, I had to learn not to say, “Isn’t it obvious?” because odds are, it was not obvious to anyone else.
And thus the question is maddeningly patronizing.
Fast forward to today and my mind is still running that same old program. Said program has endowed me with the kind of rich, deep, and unique insights and ideas that, with a little luck, could have me declared a visionary.
But that ol’ program makes me smart but not happy. Happiness is well outside its wheelhouse. If I am going to seek my own happiness – and I am – I am going to have to learn to think with my emotions as well.
Which just sounds wrong in my head. Stupid Western dualism.
But I’m doing it anyway, god damn it!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.