Waterless, Rudderless, Pilotless Me

Circumstances are unfolding in my life and I find myself without a frame of reference. The voice inside my head that can predict how a given thing will impact my life, from energy it will consume to amount of time needed to process, is without words. The oddest part is that it took me literally more than two weeks to realize this. For the past two-and-a-half years, medical drama has been a fact of my life. It took two of those years for me to stop denying that reality. Now it looks like the cause of my tracheal stenosis is known – my esophagus muscles and my stomach – and that needs to be fixed before my trachea can be addressed. The most viable solution involves surgery just given governmental approval. Then I’ll have to have surgery on my trachea to remove the damaged part. It’s not a common surgery and requires five days of hospitalization to make sure the sewed together ends don’t (Yikes!) come apart. Under the best of circumstances, I do not deal well with medical matters. These strike me as not the best of circumstances. Lately I find myself reading fluffy novels, watching bad television, taking my dog for work walks, going to yoga, and sometimes trying to tackle one of my volunteer things. Not a lot of volunteer stuff is happening. I’m sort of unable to drag myself away from the books and TV. Heck, I’ll even simply sit there. It’s like there’s nothing left in me for anything requiring my soul. I’ve been beating myself up about this for a couple of weeks. “Get off your butt and DO SOMETHING!” my brain screams. It falls on deaf ears. “Why are you just sitting there?” gets no response. This isn’t exactly depression, though that would be understandable. It isn’t exactly escapism, either. It’s as if my inner batteries have been drained past empty and I’m trying to recharge them with the weakest of power sources. today it came to me: I don’t actually know how to handle this. I am a fish out of water, a boat without a rudder, a plane without a pilot. I’ve decided one I hope useful thing. I get to read books, watch TV, and even sit there. I am allowed to do it until I’m so bored that I do something just to shake things up. My commitments can wait. I’m going through something hard. Maybe grace under this pressure is achieved by not doing things that increase my stress. An, yeah, I wrote that. Astonishingly, I even think I believe it.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized by Jen. Bookmark the permalink.

About Jen

After acquiring a degree from Vassar College in psychology, I moved to Western Mass where I ran a peer mentoring network for disabled college students as well as activism and organizing around disability issues. I also conducted research on disabled women’s body image. An Upstate New York native, I eventually followed my heliotropic nature to the sun of Southern California. I divide my time between writing (disability fiction and essays) along with moderating San Diego Bisexual Forum which is one of the oldest groups of its kind in the country. In my off hours I can often be found in my neighborhood live music venue enjoying our local talent.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *