Swing Low
Tuesday, July 17, 2007 Guess who is out for the very first time on their own since having a hysterectomy? Me! And it feels amazing. I walked three whole blocks to the nearest café with wireless internet all by myself. It hurts a little, but I think it is worth it, considering that all this time spent sitting on my butt in bed watching "What Not To Wear" and "Three's Company" had put me squarely in my fat pants again.
I am not sure what to do with myself. I mean, I can write and knit and make comics (yes, there will be more than just the first one) and watch television and go for the occasional beer or lunch, but now that a little less of my energy is spent on the physical healing process, these things just do not fill the time like they used to. Now I actually have some energy left over for thinking, and it everything else has begun to feel hollow in comparison. All I want to do is crawl back into my cave of cushioning diversions in which I have retreated for the last few weeks, but this brain of mine keeps intruding with thoughts.
Brain: You've been through a lot, haven't you?I cannot run far from Brain, so I guess I will just have to keep breaking down and having occasional paroxysms of existential dread and alienation. In the midst of a fit of tears, I will suddenly be filled with a terrible sense of betrayal. It is as though the Universe has become other; when once I was a cog in its works, I am now apart from it. It is one thing to be alone in the Universe, and it is quite another to feel set completely aside from it. This is a non-rational, emotional reaction to my situation, but I cannot shake it.Schmutzie: Shut up.
Brain: Don't downplay it, now. This is what you always do, but it doesn't mean it's not important.
Schmutzie: I already know that, Brain, but I don't want to talk about it. It hurts.
Brain: Of course it does. Things that suck as bad as cancer and hysterectomies are supposed to hurt. That's how you know that God hates you.
Schmutzie: Hello! I have a remarkable lack of stupid over here. And stop trying to be funny. You're not good at it.
Brain: Okay, but look, you've got to deal with this. Didn't you break down crying two nights ago because you felt an overwhelming helplessness, a betrayal by the Universe itself?
Schmutzie: Yeah. You're right. I hate it, but you're right. Wanna watch "That 70s Show"? I think they're running four episodes back to back!
Brain: Sweet jeebus. [smacks itself in the limbic lobe]
As strange as it sounds, this also feels somewhat hopeful. Part of me acknowledges that because what I assumed was so firmly established left so easily, there must be something else for me. There always is, I know that rationally, but I can still feel it despite my sense of loss and being lost.
All the same, I resist change like I am being forced into chattel slavery by the greater Universe.
So, I hang in this tenuous balance of knowing and not knowing, feeling betrayed and trusting that there is more.
Reader Comments (11)
This is beautifully put, Schmutzie. What an odd time you're in, mourning the loss of something so significant while also sensing the good things ahead.
I'm a firm believer that there are no coincidences, so I read your words with that lens. It does seem to be an incredible opportunity for redefinition of a sort.
I'm glad the physical healing is moving along. I hope you find emotional peace soon as well.
I don't know if this will seem unbelievable to you, but the last part of this post? I feel that. And I know so many of those who deal with my same problem so as well. It's why we all keep trying even when we don't know what we are really trying for.
Lovely post.
not to resort to platitudes, but this is a piece of beautiful introspection...
I read this on artist Yuka Yamaguchi's site and thought of you.
Soon, my hands and legs will give up on me, detach themselves and fly away to become separate creatures. My skin only serves to cover up all the things that make me. I wish I could rip my skin apart to see what’s inside of me.
A lot of her work deals with the body and our relation to it.
> As strange as it sounds, this also feels somewhat hopeful. Part of me acknowledges that because what I assumed was so firmly established left so easily, there must be something else for me. There always is, I know that rationally, but I can still feel it despite my sense of loss and being lost.
Wow.
I ought to be dredging my thesaurus for better words, in order to honour such a magnificent post, and those sublime sentences - but, this isn't about my ability (or inability) to string a coherent sentence together - it's about yours.
You are a fine writer, and a magnificent thinker.
I want to say all these wise, profound things to you, but sadly lack any wise or profound things to say. I hate going through bad stuff and there's just no way around it but through it.
I like reading your stuff, I feel a kinship and as a result feel less alone with my own shit.
Man I am just so ( can't even think of the word because it's so hot here) this morning. Feel free to fill in my blank.
The whole time I was reading the dialog in the middle of your post, I was wondering who Brian was.
My dyslexia aside, I've been lurking here for a while, and I want to thank you for what you write. I hope you continue to heal body and soul and that Brian stops making things difficult.
I am so happy to read this post. So happy to know you went out -- and wishing you peace and healing.
"So, I hang in this tenuous balance of knowing and not knowing, feeling betrayed and trusting that there is more." - Wow Schmutzie. You've just articulated in the most beautiful way what so many of us feel or have felt at some point.
Thanks for that.
I felt that same loss of control over my body, of knowing that it was no longer trustworthy, when I was pregnant with our first son. Luckily the feeling passed.
Re: the photo. Interesting...I bought you a fan in Italy and then changed my mind and bought you something entirely different instead. I think you will like...