Being Broken

I'm a broken girl. Most of you know that. Pain is life, and life is pain. I've basically got a broken back. I'm pretty much bedridden. Those who didn't know, well, there it is. Every once in a great while, I get to remember what I was, and it's a great dichotomy: what I was, and what I am.

I got some shots today.

These shots always make me feel invincible, they make me remember how I was, and forget how I am. How I'm broken, how much I've lost-that's reality.

I get to escape, if only for a few hours. I get to remember, if only for awhile, how I used to be.

If only for a few hours, I get to return to myself:

Intelligent, attractive, in control, logical, alluring, ready and able for anything. Able to follow any whim, no matter how outrageous; able to sing, discourse, create, react, play. Able to be NORMAL.

Able to actually leave my house, to get up out of bed, to DO.

Just to be ABLE.

After those few hours, coming down is a huge crash. The pain comes back, always. The limitations come back, always.

I realize how much I miss myself. And I realize how much I've had to change, to accept, to adjust over these last few years.

How much I HATE it.

Such is life.

And it sucks.

I wouldn't give up those hours of ability for anything. No matter how many mental gymnastics I have to do afterward.

Not. For. Anything.

/endPityParty

Thanks for bearing with me-this shit doesn't last for long, thank goodness. Mental equilibrium will be restored with liberal application of common sense and meditation.