On the Sunday evening before Martin Luther King, Jr. Monday, Jeff and I were going dancing. Our favorite band was playing, and the next day was a holiday. You know what that means, no early bedtime. We talked about a conversation he had with a friend who was complaining about having to drive his young children here and there. Jeff told him, “One day you will miss these days.”
I responded, “That’s what I think about dancing. One day, we will miss this.”
Then this happened:
The next day without school I had time to go to an exercise class. Not 5 minutes into the class, I had an accident. The exercise ball flew out from under me, and I fell hard on my tailbone. I know I just heard all of you gasp, “Ouch!”
So it’s cracked or bruised. Either way, my doctor said it would take 3 weeks to heal. The pain was unbelievable, but in my mind I thought I would only have to take one day off. Yeah, right.
I did try to teach half a day on Wednesday and another half day on Thursday, but by Thursday afternoon, I was consigned to the sofa with a heating pad.
On Monday, I tried again and made it through until noon. Did you know that when you try really hard to endure pain, the pain doesn’t give in? In fact, it turns into a nasty monster making concentration and even eating difficult.
I am having a hard time curbing my anger about this. Friends comfort me with words of encouragement.
“What can I do?”
“Give it time.”
Even Thich Nhat Hanh has good advice. It will get better. I know this.
But sometimes I am impatient. I want to dance. I want to go for a walk with my dog. I want to drive, goddammit.
I told a writing partner that I wouldn’t be writing about this because I didn’t want to be whiney. She sent me this message, “That’s what Slice of Life is about. What your experience is right now. It takes courage to write when things are not going well. Others will learn from you.”
So here I am, ugly and bruised, sitting on my heating pad, in all honesty, mad at the world. But at the same time, I am finding time to read, to listen to my favorite Pandora station, to watch the light change on the bayou, and to write. Write true. Write from the heart. Be present. I’m here.