Since I can't take any sort of painkillers right now (self-restricted so I don't burn a hole in my stomach or get liver damage), I'm going to write out my pain.
It hurts. My body hurts. Specifically, my neck hurts. My shoulder hurts. My hands, the things that create beautiful things, hurt. So even though I want to knit, I have to will myself to pull it out and knit because it hurts. Pain is beauty, I guess. My legs hurt. My left knee hurts. I feel like a fat penguin when I walk because I...hurt.
How did I live through this pain before? Was it there all this time but I just walked right through it ignorant to what it meant? Maybe I lived through it because I thought it would be fixed one day. But it isn't going to be fixed. It will always be there...all the time...ever watching ever waiting ever in the back of my mind constantly nagging that I WILL HURT.
I'm in the this stage of acceptance where this is my special kind of hell. No one will understand it, I say to myself. No one will believe me, I say to myself. This is my pain. My burden to bear. My hell. Yes, again, my special kind of hell. Where walking to the bathroom is a chore. Where I will have to be numbed for the rest of my god damn life because I
hurt.
Hurt. Pain. Suffer. Needles. Fire. Over dramatic feelings of sorrow and fear and loneliness and
pain.
Did I mention I hurt?
Positive thinking is over rated. I want to hide in my sorrow that I will forever feel this pain. Especially on the days that used to fill me with so much happiness. Rain. Puddles. Laughter as I used to play around on the wet concrete, hoping that I will forever live in an area that had this type of weather. I wanted to live in a state that had this every day of the year. Now I have to rethink that because this weather only causes misery and
pain.
I am now a weather vane for all those that care. If you're worried that your wedding will be rained on, I can tell you that it will be coming. All it does is cause my body more
pain.
Don't worry. I'll warn you ahead of time.
These days are the worse because even if I'm carrying a bag it then starts to hurt. It starts to ache, and all I want to do is crawl up into a tiny little ball and try to find some sort of semblance of what it used to be without the
pain
and hope that eventually I will never feel this
pain
again. But I will. Because this will be my life. My. Life. Forever. There is no cure for this. At least it doesn't kill me, but then again at this very moment I want to put myself out of this special hell of mine to finally have a life without
pain.
But I won't. Don't worry. I have to find my faith again. It will come back to me. Maybe when it stops raining and the sun is out and I feel better again.
But now all I can think of is the fact that I
hurt. And I am mad that I hurt. I am so blindingly, agonizingly, dramatically enraged. Because all I want to do is relax and enjoy the beautiful sound of the rain against the window. Enjoy the cold in all its beautiful crispness.
But I can't.
Because I am in pain because of it.
This just affirms what I have always believed: my body hates me. My body and I have been in a constant battle with each other. I keep saying, "This is what I want" but my body continues to act on its own. My body and I are not in sync. It's like Peter Pan and his shadow: constantly at war to become sewed together.
This is just its way of being an asshole.
But that's just the pain talking.
Because I hurt.
The travails and gallavantings of an Asian queer lady who loves to read, write, and create havoc.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Bad News/Positive Light
I found out some bad news recently that I am still attempting to wrap my brain around. Although this is a journal of sorts that reveals personal details, I am choosing not to because I am not ready for that yet. Not just yet. Just know that it is bad, but not truly life-threatening or horrible. But it is something that throws a curve into one's life to the point that something has to change. Not something. Everything. So I am still wrapping my brain around it. How do I do this? Education. Education. Education. I took a trip to my local library and spent an hour finding what I need to combat this bad news.
I keep thinking of that silver lining. I recently told someone that I was raised in a very negative environment, so that is all I know. But lately I have been attempting to look at everything with a silver lining. It's not the easiest thing to do, but I am attempting to do it. Because it requires way too much energy to be negative than to be positive. It's that concept of you use more muscles frowning than when you are smiling. So this is another area of life that I need to focus on the positive side of it all. Positive will combat everything, right?
And so I take on the charge, educate myself, and keep on trucking. Insert another cliche adage that means I will be all right.
I keep thinking of that silver lining. I recently told someone that I was raised in a very negative environment, so that is all I know. But lately I have been attempting to look at everything with a silver lining. It's not the easiest thing to do, but I am attempting to do it. Because it requires way too much energy to be negative than to be positive. It's that concept of you use more muscles frowning than when you are smiling. So this is another area of life that I need to focus on the positive side of it all. Positive will combat everything, right?
And so I take on the charge, educate myself, and keep on trucking. Insert another cliche adage that means I will be all right.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Reflections in Moments
The Bay Area Rapid Transportation (BART) system has its quirks and idiosyncrasies that every commuter begins to understand. The understanding that mornings are not for rapid-fire conversations. The coffee sets in at that time. Please keep it to a low murmur. Everyone has their own ear plugs. Even if there is no audio stimuli, it is the peace that the earphones give as it diminishes the train's creaks and moans. Unless you live at the end of the line, don't think you will get a seat: whether it is the brisk walk towards home or the groggy slog towards work.
And when these silent rules or guidelines are broken, the day is shattered one piece at a time. Everyone is pushed into an unknown plane that makes the playing field very different. Tempers are even shorter. Everyone loses their ability to keep the peace. Things become not what they were. Eyes start darting, saying, "Stop what you are doing. You are breaking the rules!" Words are mentioned. Things that cannot be withheld with the environment has changed. Sometimes there is envy for those that are just sleeping it all away, not noticing that is has changed and the day has become different in so many ways.
* * * * *
First dates. I've been on a lot of them. I can describe the different types and what is the best places to go on a first date. A friend commented that a first date, especially when it is from an online dating site, that it should be a meet and confer. I see it as an interview. What do you think about this environment? Can you stand my laugh? Will you be able to handle my ever rollicking emotions? Will you be able to enjoy all the things I do, but still be yourself? These interviews should never be done in a restaurant. Too risky. It may be a horrible interview that you will regret eating your enjoyable food in awkward silences. It's always coffee or an alcoholic drink, preferred the latter for its ability to loosen tongues and minds. Shoulders relax. Mouths smile more. I'm more attractive with red chipmunk cheeks.
What I seek is a spark. A fire. A connection. Something that will make you stay even when the drinks have dried up in its glass. Something that is beyond quick glances and hurried touches in the dark. Something more. Sometimes these interviews reveal more interviews. Sometimes it leads to a "I don't think it will work" speeches and "I hope we can be friends" knowing that it won't be true. Facebook maybe. Twitter even. But never true. Never real. Always innuendo and hidden glances that lead to not seeing each other ever again. It's okay. It is best that way.
Sometimes it leads to more. To a relationship. To things that may or may not be better for me. A partner in life moments that either cheers you on or holds you when things are tough. They become the first person you turn to when you want to share something. They are the one you await breathlessly for contact of any kind. But then the path leads to its end and you both end with saying, "Let's be friends". And you are back where you were after the first interview: knowing that it will not be the same, it won't work the way we would like to. Hearts are less whole, but wiser. The walls are built up again. The plaster starts to set in, letting the once fragile wound become once again less stable. Hopes were either dashed or put back into place. Never regrets though. Never. They build the perfect partner ever. Or a better understanding of being alone. Stronger. Ready to have a relationship with oneself.
* * * * *
Campfires are the most calming images for me. They also invoke revelations that could not be otherwise. The fire always enchants their viewers in such a hypnotic way that makes one find themselves in thoughts that they had been avoiding too many times previously. They become ingrained as the smoke circles around the head and clothes, leaving its residue in its wake. Thoughts become actions that then become a spot in the timeline that one can never erase. Or they become moldy in its existence that campfire can only bring back to life. These thoughts can only be instigated by the licking and cracks of the temptress, leaving the person feeling empty as the she leaves. Until she is ignited again, and the thoughts become ravage in its need to become forefront. Then the cycle continues until the smell ignite the memories of them giving me comforting moments.
And when these silent rules or guidelines are broken, the day is shattered one piece at a time. Everyone is pushed into an unknown plane that makes the playing field very different. Tempers are even shorter. Everyone loses their ability to keep the peace. Things become not what they were. Eyes start darting, saying, "Stop what you are doing. You are breaking the rules!" Words are mentioned. Things that cannot be withheld with the environment has changed. Sometimes there is envy for those that are just sleeping it all away, not noticing that is has changed and the day has become different in so many ways.
* * * * *
First dates. I've been on a lot of them. I can describe the different types and what is the best places to go on a first date. A friend commented that a first date, especially when it is from an online dating site, that it should be a meet and confer. I see it as an interview. What do you think about this environment? Can you stand my laugh? Will you be able to handle my ever rollicking emotions? Will you be able to enjoy all the things I do, but still be yourself? These interviews should never be done in a restaurant. Too risky. It may be a horrible interview that you will regret eating your enjoyable food in awkward silences. It's always coffee or an alcoholic drink, preferred the latter for its ability to loosen tongues and minds. Shoulders relax. Mouths smile more. I'm more attractive with red chipmunk cheeks.
What I seek is a spark. A fire. A connection. Something that will make you stay even when the drinks have dried up in its glass. Something that is beyond quick glances and hurried touches in the dark. Something more. Sometimes these interviews reveal more interviews. Sometimes it leads to a "I don't think it will work" speeches and "I hope we can be friends" knowing that it won't be true. Facebook maybe. Twitter even. But never true. Never real. Always innuendo and hidden glances that lead to not seeing each other ever again. It's okay. It is best that way.
Sometimes it leads to more. To a relationship. To things that may or may not be better for me. A partner in life moments that either cheers you on or holds you when things are tough. They become the first person you turn to when you want to share something. They are the one you await breathlessly for contact of any kind. But then the path leads to its end and you both end with saying, "Let's be friends". And you are back where you were after the first interview: knowing that it will not be the same, it won't work the way we would like to. Hearts are less whole, but wiser. The walls are built up again. The plaster starts to set in, letting the once fragile wound become once again less stable. Hopes were either dashed or put back into place. Never regrets though. Never. They build the perfect partner ever. Or a better understanding of being alone. Stronger. Ready to have a relationship with oneself.
* * * * *
Campfires are the most calming images for me. They also invoke revelations that could not be otherwise. The fire always enchants their viewers in such a hypnotic way that makes one find themselves in thoughts that they had been avoiding too many times previously. They become ingrained as the smoke circles around the head and clothes, leaving its residue in its wake. Thoughts become actions that then become a spot in the timeline that one can never erase. Or they become moldy in its existence that campfire can only bring back to life. These thoughts can only be instigated by the licking and cracks of the temptress, leaving the person feeling empty as the she leaves. Until she is ignited again, and the thoughts become ravage in its need to become forefront. Then the cycle continues until the smell ignite the memories of them giving me comforting moments.
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