The spiral

Today is Friday, September 30, 2011 at 7:00am. I am at home. That is how I begin my journal entries. When, what time, where. But this entry is not about right now. Not yet. This is about yesterday. My tender sore spot of a yesterday.

I was in my room. With plants, lamp, freaking FOX news and no remote, lit (or is it lighted) candle, pictures of my son, my mother. Mirrors, my clothes, a bed, fan, pillows, sketchbooks, journals, poetry cds, me. I was in the room with me.

I got up yesterday morning with a sore back and went for a walk. I love walking. What it does for my body, my mind. I have been in so much pain lately I haven't had the desire to walk. Only sleep. As if I could sleep. Lately maybe four hours a night. My back is crazy in pain and that pain goes up into my neck most nights. It's like I'm nine months pregnant the way I try to find a comfortable position in bed. The constant concern of my clients putting more pressure on my back early the very next morning and for twelve hours that day sure doesn't help. Especially Clara. Lifting her. Transferring her. Bending so so low changing her on the couch she sleeps on is awful and has caused more stress and damage to my back than anything. More than she deserves from me for nine dollars an hour for sure. But then I guess I'm the sucka. But it's not just Clara, I have other stresses. And I could certainly afford to lose a few pounds. So I made a recommitment to myself to walk at least an hour a day.

I had a good walk. That sounds stupid to say. The hell is a good walk? I don't know. I felt good. You understand. I drove home and prepared the photos and paintings I'm selling at the event tonight. I felt (insert positive adjective here) high. I don't like the phrase natural high for some reason. A good high like all was right with the world. Not really, not like all was right with the world, but that I was okay with how my world was. That make sense?

My body is shifting. Hormones, all that. Beginning peri menapause. My period stopped months back. I don't miss it. Good riddens in fact. I know that's a lot of information, but whatever. It's my blog and I can cry if I want to (cry if I want to.)

Around 3:00 yesterday evening real life came crashing down. It didn't really. But it felt like it. It suddenly felt like I had been running for the past twenty years straight, then took a break to breathe at the top(ish) of the mountain. There I was, poor girl, bent over, sighing heavily with my hands on my knees and sweat dripping off of my Tyra Banks forehead and just as I cooled off...BAM! Hit with a tumbling rock. Hit with the stress of twenty years. Hit with the sudden acknowledgement of being tired from putting the positive spin on every fucking hard time. Like it can't just be bad sometimes. Suddenly tired from always having the right words to say to everyone who called me with their bad days.

You don't feel the bruises until you stop fighting.

I've stopped fighting. I didn't know I was fighting all along, but I know now and I've stopped. On a dime. Stopped immediately denying when I was hurt, when my energy was depleted, when I was just plain wo' out.

Somewhere along my journey I made up or agreed to that if I admit to any pain then I was denying the power of God. I'm not. Sometimes I hurt and God is always there, living and breathing in me and those two facts are separate. And the same. And no, my "spirit man" is not wrestling with my "flesh man." Listening to that kind of religiosity makes my stomach hurt. But I don't say anything because letting the conversation dissappear is easier than the discussion.

I should have taken the nap when I felt the spiraling. It's a sinking kind of feeling. Like I'm on an elevator and I'd like to go to the third floor (see, I don't even have penthouse aspirations, just the freaking third floor) then some idiot gets on and pushes the button to the basement. But I don't say anything because riding it out is easier than the discussion. But wait! This is lower than the basement! Where the fuck are we going now? And the idiot elevator envador is not on the car anymore. It's just me. With plants and mirrors and lit or lighted candles and freaking FOX news and no remote.

The sinking was my cue to climb my sore back onto my air mattress and go to sleep. I medicate myself with hot showers and naps because pills are too tempting. I am afraid I could rationalize myself into something I won't be able to blog about later.

I didn't take a nap. I didn't lie down because yesterday was payday. The checks from my agency are mailed to me and they always come on Thursday. And I have bills to pay. I was waiting for my check to pay back a loan from Lynette from last week and put gas in my car and get Uraeus another jacket and jeans and the rest to go to my web designer because my yearly website renewal fee was due on the 28th and he keeps sending me reminder texts because he doesn't know that I don't need that shit right now. And the sinking is serious. That's really what it feels like. Not drowning. Drowning is more dramatic. Drowning is a concious gasping for air. I didn't even know I wasn't breathing until later when Val told me to breathe.

Dear reader, if you feel the sinking and you can take a nap, don't do like I did. Take the nap. Forget your damn website that nobody visits anyway. If you lose it because you missed the renewal date then pay the extra money to get it back up later. Besides, you won't lose your domain name. Nobody wants to be you anyway.

I waited for the mailperson. While waiting and sinking to the point I felt slightly queasy in my stomach, I opened my mail from three days ago. And what I go and do that for huh? One of the bills (because that's what mail means, bills, because who writes letters anymore?) one of the bills was from when I went to the emergency room this past Labor Day. I told you about that already didn't I? Yeah, that's when they discovered the stupid firoids. Anyway, here's the crazy breakdown of the charges and services:

Pharmacy $2.00

Med/surg supplies $55.00
I guess the price of latex gloves and plastic cups to pee in have gone up.

Laboratory $21.00

Lab/chemistry $574.00
???

Lab/hemotology $163.00
I guess that's because I have such a rare blood type.

Lab/urology $250.00
'Cause testing my urine is really hard, even though we did that shit in school and it was like nothing. But whatever.

Ultrasound $4,480.00
Beside this amount, what's crazy about this is that the ultrasound was to check out my uterus but the fibroids were so big that they covered my uterus so the tech couldn't see it at all. Now, to me, I should get some kind of pass or don't pay or something like that. #getthefuckouttahere

Emergency room $1,540.00

Doctor's fee $636.00

For the grand total of $7,721.00
Oh yes they did. Dear President Obama...

And here's what's (sickeningly not) funny. I could have gone to a woman's free clinic in a few days and recieved the same service but because I had to leave work on a holiday (I guess they thought I was faking all the blood pouring out of my vagina and faking my stomach and back pains and really I wanted to ditch Clara and rush home and put on my new Gap stretch capris and swoop over to the Labor Day backyard BBQ and drink 40s with my homies) I had to get a note from the doctor saying that I actually went to the hospital that day. After being the employee who doesn't call in, shows up on time, dependable, team player, and all the other stuff you say about yourself in the interview to get the job, I needed a friggin' note. So, an hour and a half later when my relief arrived, for one day I left my nine dollars an hour job and got a $7,000.00 hospital bill. But hey, I got the note.

And true to my form, I went to my immediate emotional default and gave myself the "It's all good" speech that I have tucked safely in my bra in case I forget any part. I never forget though. And when I'm giving it to myself it's especially harsh and unabridged and accompanied with guilt power points.

* You can handle this!
* You've really got it easy.
* Think of your ancestors who were slaves who had to endure much much worse. So really this is like nothing!
* You are being a punk!
* Look at how blessed you are. It's like you don't even appreciate what you have if you complain (ABOUT ANYTHING)!

I'm trying, but I can't seem to put into words here a complete description of the emotional sinking. I know I keep using that word, but for now it's the best one I have. It's like, you ever drink just a little too much and the room spins? It's like that except the room isn't spinning. It's going down, but not as fast. There is also a sudden fatigue, the not feeling like dealing with one more thing, the desire to scream but why bother.

I called Val because the words were better outside of my head and I knew they would be safe with her.

"But. Noth. Ing. Hap. Pened!" I pushed out through the tears.

"Something did happen!" She shot back. Gently though. The way a friend/aunt/mentor/friend can do. Shot back the meat of what I needed to hear as if sandwiched between butter buscuits. "The stress of your life happened. It all catches up to you. It's like when you're lifting as much weight as you can lift and then you can't lift anymore and then it all comes crashing down on you."

And those are the words I was looking for. That is what I was looking for. To feel understood.

I'm supposed to pay child support. I pay what I can to the county office but truthfully lately mostly I spend the money on my son's clothes and food. I work twelve hours a day at nine dollars an hour and that's not even five days a week.

Sidetrack here. I have lived most of my adult life as an artist and then somehow thought having a jobjob would make things easier. It's not. Surely not more money. The jobs that I can get these days don't pay much and I certainly can't vary the pay per assignment.

Anyway, right now, at the end of the week I can't send that money plus clothes, food and gas back and forth to Bakersfield. And I choose to spend the little money I'm working with right now on gas, his clothes, food. And very little goes to the county office. So now my account is frozen at Wells Fargo and I'm fined because I don't have the money they want to take. And the rent is still due and I want my son to have lights and hot water when he is here on the weekends. And I am squeezing in time to shoot events for extra money. And gas is a bitch. And I got my tags which were $350.00 and a new battery for $115.00 and riding with bad tags (which I did for two months) is not an option because if they have already frozen the zero dollars in my account then they may have already suspended my license too. And I don't want to get pulled over and end up getting arrested because I have work to do and I am too cute and old and tired for jail. So yes, I am a little stressed. And every pawnable thing I have is in the pawn shop and I have a shoot coming up and I need my camera back asapeth. And I am still a very powerful woman and am not a victim of anything. Not even this chapter of my life. And I will get my things back from the pawn shop and this too will pass. And I am bored with the number of times I have used "and" to begin sentences in this paragraph alone.

I am not in the sinking vortex I was in yesterday. I made it through that. I am posting this entry today and being specific about things that are personal (beyond the level of personal I usually get) and embarrassing because I'm not the only one who gets affected by the overwhelm of real life. This is my outlet. I can put words to my feelings. Maybe these words will help you or someone you know. Even if it helps for you to know that you are not the only one. I woke up this morning in prayer for the woman or man sitting in an office today who may feel the sinking and can't leave to take a nap or doesn't have medication or meditation or church or temple or a spiritual outlet or someone to call. I don't have the answers. But I do know what it feels like when the feelings bottled inside come out. When carrying another extra pound is too heavy. I have God, art, poetry, friends, family. I have this blog that I can share with you.

I know that this may sound like one big long fat rant (and maybe it is) but it would behoove you to read it like it is your own. Because it is you know. The details change. But you've got your own life you are carrying around.

After I got off the phone with Val, I sent the text to my designer. "Hey, still waiting on the mail but it doesn't look like I'm going to make the renewal deposit today." I went back and forth via text with my son about his day. He couldn't play in the game because he forgot his football socks but he still had fun. Then turned off my phone. I breathed. On purpose. Watched Monk, Psyche, Law and Order. I laughed. On purpose. I prayed. I let God love me.

Those voices in our heads accuse us of being weak. We are not. We go through a lot. No wonder the road rage. The fighting in our heads and on the streets. So much boiling inside of us. I woke up this morning happy to see the day. I have a new private client I meet with today. More money, less drama. I'm going walking after that. I am going to take some time today to be easy with myself. You be easy with you too. Okay?