Accepting

i never read much fiction as a child.  There was too much non fiction i was busy gulping down constantly.  One fiction book stayed with me.  It was called, “Izzy, willy-nilly” and documented a girl’s acceptance through losing her leg.  She had what she calls a “little izzy” in her head, that reacted to her life, while she remained externally calm.  The idea stayed with me, the little jade in my head kicking things about or doing cartwheels as i learned to accept my own differences.

The little jade wants to cancel a follow-up doctor’s appointment.  Badly.

It’s not rational, not reasonable, not adult of me.  i just don’t want to deal with it.  i keep thinking that in an extra week i could be ready to deal.  But, of course, that isn’t true. i’ve already had a week to wait and i’m still here, in this volatile place.

i keep trying to visualize walking out of the doctor’s office saying, “that wasn’t so bad.  Not a big deal at all.”  i try to visualize being calm, being open, accepting.

Last night, when we were cozy in bed, holding hands, i asked Sir Raven if i could just cancel the appointment.  Then my brain picked up on what i had just said and added, “um, reschedule it.  Yes, that sounds better.”  She laughed.  Not a happy laugh, actually.  In a totally even tone, as if she was stating an absolute fact, she says, “that is not going to happen.  Your appointment is Thursday.”  i sourly accused her of being smug.  How does she know with such certainty that i wouldn’t reschedule?!? 

Yesterday, i woke up with a less heavy heart but felt a bit depressed.  Overwhelmed.  Not focused.  i had to talk myself through everything, which makes me feel rediculous.  i always wonder what kind of person has to beg themselves to get something done.  i was hurting and irritable.  Stressed about half finished assignments and going back to the doctor.  It’s like my body flunked another test.  Intellectually, i know that this happens, it could be nothing significant.  Emotionally, it feels like i flunked something important.  Emotionally, i’m not reasonable, not able to feel happy for the pregnant women chatting and laughing in the waiting room.  Which is just beyond reasonable.  There is no reason to not feel happy for them, if i saw them on the street, i’d smile.  But not there, in the waiting room, because i’m not waiting for joyful news.  It makes me not like myself much.

i am feeling a bit demoralized.

i figure, the absolute least i could do is not be a difficult child.  Not add to the pressure Sir Raven must feel dealing with my different medical issues.  When i think that, i feel even smaller than the little jade in my head, and she is only a teeny girl. 

What i want the most is be well.  To be able to function better again, to not have the pain take over and me powerless to stop it.  i am just over it.  i’m trying to consider what the lesson is that i can learn from the last few months.  One is that i need to be accepting of medical help, to not fight it, to not feel like i’m whining or complaining.  Even here, when i write about fibromyalgia, i think i sound like i big whiner.  i don’t like people who whine and complain constantly.  i positively detest it in myself.  What do i need to do?  Accept.  Accept that i have to advocate for myself, that i’m not alone in this mess anymore, and i have to get things done to get better.

i have to accept that Sir Raven walked into the medical junk with her eyes wide open and its not some random thing i’m forcing her to deal with.  She is far more accepting of me when it comes to the fibro than i am of myself.  To me, it feels sometimes like something inside of me has more control than she has.  

i hate that.

i want to be able to get back to yoga and pilates.  The only way i can do that is to find another doctor and move forward with acceptance.

What i do accept is that i need her.

i feel a strange desperation to have her hands in my hair, her welts on my skin.  i need her around me, and inside of me, and all through me.  i want to be the satisfied smile on her face and the sweat on her skin.  i need the noise inside of my head to stop. 

It’s been a long while, what feels like years, since we have gone there together.  So long that i don’t feel sure of myself, not that this matters.  So long that i am afraid because i know when it does happen, its gonna be a long, hard fall.  Inside, i’m gonna go down kicking and screaming, not that this will matter either.

For all i know, it’s better for her when i feel anxious and unsure.  Needing but not wanting.  Frightened.  

Sir Raven is coming up on a break from work and i’m more focused on her getting the rest she needs than what i need from her.  And then i remind myself that she needs to let go too.  Fighting against myself is not acceptance. 

Little jade inside is screaming and my inner wolf is growling low.  i keep shoving it down, have been for awhile. 

i feel like i’m holding onto the monkey bars dangling, with aching arms and calloused hands.  Yet, every time i think i will slip and fall, i find a way to hold on tighter, to hang on, to accept.

And the little jade is holding on to the bar too with sweaty hands, ready to fall, ready not to fall. 

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7 thoughts on “Accepting

  1. night owl says:

    I so love reading you inner struggles.
    It’s not that I love your inner struggles, or that you are in pain, or that your little jade is kicking and screaming. It simply tells me that I am not alone in my own struggles. For that, I am truly grateful.
    (((Hugs)))

  2. Sometimes the hardest lesson a Master is challenged with teaching a slave, I think, is that what you are is enough.

    We don’t want robots or automatons, we want humans, and what we most want, at least what I most want, is someone who chooses to do what is hard for them, because I asked for it.

    If you have no choice, then it’s not the good kind of slavery.

    What you are is enough.

  3. jadescastle says:

    (wry smiles) Well, i suppose a biopsy would qualify as “choosing to do what is hard” because she says i have to. i’m not entirely sure i have a choice in a sense, but i know exactly what you are meaning by the bad kind of slavery. Been there, done that, never again.

    And…from the bottom of my heart…thank you.

  4. sirqsmlb says:

    You are NOT whining. You are owning where you are and what’s real to your body right now. You aren’t idling complaining or making up drama. You’re living through tough times and painful times. You’re living, though. Not giving up or going gently.

    Hugs,
    Fiona

  5. sofia says:

    And i’ve been looking for the right words to say, and not finding them. Maybe they’ve already been said here, but these come to mind:
    “nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know
    …nothing ever really attacks us except our own confusion. perhaps there is no solid obstacle except our own need to protect ourselves from being touched. maybe the only enemy is that we don’t like the way reality is now and therefore wish it would go away fast. but what we find as practitioners is that nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know. if we run a hundred miles an hour to the other end of the continent in order to get away from the obstacle, we find the very same problem waiting for us when we arrive. it just keeps returning with new names, forms, manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us about where we are separating ourselves from reality, how we are pulling back instead of opening up, closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter, without hesitating or retreating into ourselves.”
    ― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times
    Ok, actually, they didn’t come to mind, i went and found them.

    Hugs,

    sofia

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