I was encouraged by the immediate, dramatic improvement in my condition after my first acupuncture treatment 2 weeks ago. The second, last week, was equally effective. I’ve learned, as I was told, that the benefits continue for 48 hours. By late Wed. and Thurs. of both weeks, I was aching anew, but never again as critically as when I was near panic.
Nevertheless, this thing is real. I have to remind myself that it’s okay to feel it. I’ve been gettting a cankle, of all things, for a couple of years now. The swelling is worse sometimes than others, and now it’s accompanied by pain. (Stabbing down from the back of the knee – which creeps to a deep ache of the joint – or even from as far as the hip, when it’s all I can do not to cry and curse God.) It’s a challenge to accept it, and I must continually remind myself that damage isn’t being done. I’m just… older. I elevate and try to “pull” the edema out.
I find that my pain is concentrated almost entirely on my left, as though I’ve been split down the middle. On exalted days, I express thanks that my dominant hand and wrist aren’t affected so harshly as the left. I can still write. I believe a different part of the brain is activated (and healed) through hand-writing, and it’s interesting to see the difference between my private private thoughts and my “show journal,” which you’re reading. I think I hold nothing back, and I tell the truth. But I do come off rosier here, and more evolved than there. I value my space to throw tantrums, and it’s my paper journal. I don’t write as much or as often anymore. Being restricted from my space to cry and scream because my knuckles ache, makes me cry and scream! HahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaRah.
I sent my best friend a birthday card. On the cover it reads, “Getting older is like frying bacon in the nude.” Inside, it teases, “You know it’s gonna hurt. You just don’t know where.” Normally, I would never buy such an ugly card. I like pretty, inspiring, or cute things. But I couldn’t help it. We were teenagers together. This was never supposed to happen to us!
(It also pleased me a great deal to make her cringe at the word “nude.” My bestie is the biggest prude!!! I love to make her skin crawl with stupid hippie images of naked goddess earth mothers, which I would most certainly be if I’d ever been pregnant.)
I wrote a love letter to tell her how I really feel, “You were born, so the sun stayed up longer than it would for the rest of the year, and the evening breezes smelled like blossoms.”
I honestly feel like the luckiest girl alive sometimes. I find that it is a remarkable thing to have even one person to understand and accept me wholly, and I have that. I miss her.
I skipped yoga again to go hiking, but then my buddy was too late to start that day.
I started a new job 3 weeks ago. I’m stressed and tired, but I like it. My move to Idaho is in flux again, because I’d like to stay. As a young person, I felt that my identity would come from a career that I would somehow feel a call to. I know now that I simply have to find something I can do well and people I can handle seeing every day. These people… I can work with these people! They can stand me, and we have the perfect blend of gettin’ it done and enjoying each other’s company.
I feel… grown-up, for the first time. I don’t feel young. I did, as recently as March. There is something profoundly different about me now. I am a middle-aged woman, no longer merely amazed that my decades number FOUR. I feel like they do (though I’m still utterly gobsmacked). I’m not a kid. I want more from my life than what I’ve created so far. I’ve been childish for a very long time. I will always be enthusiastic and ebullient, but I’m not quite as immature as I once was. It’s strange. 🙂
I will, however, return to that great bastion of my youth, the drum circle, on Sunday next, my first of the season. I finished my drum. It’s not the best tone, but I love it. I’m back in class. I can’t wait to pound out the entire summer at the park. I love being outside in Summer. Parasol and shade, here I come!
(I made an appointment with a dermatologist. I’m having the first bad patch on my old, fair skin removed. It begins! Hm. Time to schedule my mammogram.)
Progress is slow, but I feel good.
Abondan is from the Bauli tribe in Ivory Coast. When the King comes through town, all the young [perky] women grease themselves up and dance topless. It’s a great rhythm! We played for an hour straight, when Michael thanked Quinn.
“Ah, what a beautiful picture that was.”
“Oh yeah!” I laughed. “Thanks for reminding me!” I’d been concentrating on keeping up (and stressing a little about the pain – Ohhh, is this gonna dog me the whole session?).
He closed his eyes and smiled. “I never forgot.”