There have been a huge bunch of Ups lately.
i did meet with my pain management doctor, everything went very smooth and easily-expect i nearly got trapped trying to get off of the 4 train to Hunter College. So many rude passengers coming jamming in, without letting us out. In fairness, many (most?) New Yorkers are considerate (and smart) enough to realize that it is much easier to let a fully packed train with many people departing the scant space out of the damn train before trying to smash your way into two inches of space (literally, at times).
But-the important this is i made it. Every time i do this i feel a sense of victory i think that even blind i can make it by myself to Park Avenue. To everyone who told me i would “never make it” in New York, i smile-and i think-“i got out and made it. Fuck you!” i feel a little thrill inside. A little spark left, waiting to burst into flames somehow.
i feel a bit awash in relief that Sir Raven doesn’t have to go to any medical appointments with me anymore, which caused her huge amounts of anxiety and stress. i can now actually handle everything that has to be done alone. Groceries, meds, post office, trains, buses, some routes memorized, and can haul everything home. i love that Sir Raven has to work as her only obligation. She works hard, for sure, but i do everything else.
When she gets around any of our friends, she feels this need to point out that she was happy alone, able to do everything for herself, and would be fine without me….
and i fight myself to not point out that i do everything but wipe her ass at 24/7….but instead i do point out that she has to do exactly not a thing and forgets how damn good she has it and that she isn’t fooling one damn person-including me.
i feel a different sense of-fuck you, because it reads to me like saying: i don’t need you, i don’t even put loving you on the list, it doesn’t matter what you do for me because in the end i am just fine and happy alone.
Frankly, i do think that no one believes this stuff she says.
Last night, i pointed it out. That, frankly, few things in life are more Macho than truly being able to say, i’ve got my shit taken care of at home, i have a slave who waits on me hand and foot, a servant at all hours, all conditions of illness, with love.
It isn’t terribly attractive to me to feel like i need to point it out, but i actually think it makes her look not good, because it is not a insightful or truthful statement that i find no reason to say. i could also say that i didn’t need to say that i do everything, but the fact is i do.
In fact, the last many days have been a huge damn challenge on me. Basically, i ran out of two meds, and feel very -very -very sick. My hair hurts, my skin hurts, my body aches/stings/burns, feels like VERY large needles are being jammed in, and like my hip could literally snap.
So, my ability to do much has been extremely compromised.
Sir Raven has more than stepped up to the plate. She has washed dishes, made the bed, encouraged me to rest, made tempura veggies and shrimp, helped carry the garbage and recycling down, helped me get a floor pillow under my legs to help, and had to sit there-helpless-while i cried and rocked and said how sorry i was that she had to see me like this.
i’ve made food, sometimes got the chores done, sometimes not, the last few days. i’ve also gotten out a lot and am thankful for that.
Wednesday, after pain management, Karida and i had a tea party with our sister stuffies. I didn’t realize how i have really been needing some time to just relax and be a girl. There were a lot of giggles, silly stories, taking pictures of our sister stuffies, treats, and smiles. There is a history there, and a bond. Alice’s Tea House is the Best!
And she brought me birthday gifts. i got a princess crown barrette, which prompted people to ask me the whole way home if today was my birthday. 🙂 There was also COACH and i started to cry, recognizing it immediately. i couldn’t believe that someone thought i was special enough for Coach. That is like Tiffanys to me, in terms of specialness.
i grew up in public housing, shopped at K-mart and payless, felt guilty about costing anyone money. Karida had just spent a lot of money treating me to breakfasts and treats and extras. So i really wasn’t expecting anything more. In fact, the minute i get a student loan refund, i’m sending her some money because it all adds up. It is still a gift in life to have people who will treat you, and let you give them money back when you can. Seriously.
The whole day was really great.
The next day, my flare took over and i ran out of meds. Cheers. Go me.
Sir Raven and i were going to go out Saturday, to meet Sir Josh and the HOR for sushi. She decided two outings in one weekend was too much (mainly for me). So we had to cancel that and go out for a little day trip to City Island with friends. We had a heavenly lunch on the water, and it was a total delight. i wish i had taken pictures of the food! It was heaven. We also got to go to the mall, a rare and lovely treat, living in New York, and Sir Raven bought me three of the little lotions and body spray. We call “love and sunshine” the pleasant demeanor smell.:D
In the midst of the happiness, though, i thought of a fellow blogger who had a recent personal tragedy. i really want to help her in some way, and though we have emailed each other personally several times before i’m not a close friend-just an acquaintance, that i’ve grown to care for over years of reading her story as a slave.
There are other bloggers that i feel closer to, in the sense that i actively will i must meet them one day and that hugging would be the natural instinct there. There are not so many of us-slaves or Masters-who will disclose deep details of their lives. Those that do are blazing a trail for a new kind of diarist. Those are the people i continue to read because i care deeply about them as people. My first reaction was actually to read of the tragedy and go vomit before coming back to write and i point out that many of us feel the same way, want to reach out, would love to send what we can. Even if half of the people pouring out sadness and compassion gave twenty dollars, that would be 1,000, which will pay a bill. The last thing a family should have to worry about in times of grief is money. It is always and expensive rite of passage, along with the additional expenses of hosting family and friends, travel.
Life is so fragile. Knowing that, i hold on tight to love, in the sense that i use every love language i know on a daily basis. It is the only way that grief doesn’t ingulf me about losing my nephews again. i keep thinking of the blogger and family, the physical pain in my heart, knowing the depth and shock of this kind of a loss.
i’m sure many of us are wanting to help, and don’t know how. i send them love, peace, care, compassion for each other in a highly painful and stressful time. Compassion for themselves because you always find a way to blame yourself when you are the mommy. Or, i do.
It reminds me why i want to specialize in Trauma work as a therapist. That is what i’m interested in, helping on that journey. Of course, even if i was licensed, i would never be able to work with this particular family since i’m privy to too much outside of a session. But it did renew my faith in myself to want to reach out, teach skills, be there.