Upon awakening the day after Will's surgery
I feel the heavy weight of being
Thoroughly disappointed in myself
Once again, my muscles are clenched, tightly, actually painfully
Though I can't imagine what's going on inside me—
This I know without a shred of doubt:
Just as heightened levels of tension forbade me from
Flying to Mom's party, right before Will's surgery
I can't go to the hospital to pick up Will
Why not?
Every time I try to stand up, I feel faint …
And here is why I've never felt so stymied in my life:
Whenever anxiety had spiked in the past
I could name my fear
So, while lying petrified in bed, I ask:
What the heck is terrifying me, again?
How am I going to tell Will that
I can't come to bring him home, because
Some unnamed, terrorizing foe is
Attacking me in our bed?
How am I going to tell my sons that
I'm too petrified of I-don't-know-what to perform
Every day acts like
Showering, getting dressed and riding as a passenger
While we three pick up their dad?
As long as I'm in this terrorized state, how will I
Take good care of Will, who
Is being discharged 22 hours after such a serious surgery?
If I was able to laugh, last night, why do I feel
Disraught to the point of feeling faint, each time
I try to stand up?
Where is insight? Intuition? Any sign of
What this is that's scaring me half to death …
I mean, seriously—if anxiety is my defense system's warning to
Remain alert then—
WHY CAN'T I NAME WHATEVER I'M ALERTING MYSELF TO???
Unfortunately, while curled up in a ball on my bed …
Mental block does not consciously occur to me—yet …
Next thing I know, Barry knocks at my bedroom door …
Mercifully, my sons are not as hard on me as I am on myself …
Though they don't understand my reaction any more than I do
Negatively focused judgements are not falling on my head, and
Thank goodness, I'm not carrying the added stress of that!
In answer to Barry's knock on the door, I respond, Come in
My son takes one look at me and says:
You don't feel any better, do you, Mom?
No I say, disheartened … but I'll figure this out—
Then I continue with: Barry, I can't come with to pick up Dad
I can see that, Mom …
I'm so frustrated to think that because of insurance
He'll not be in the hospital, receiving intravenous pain relief
For at least another day. Dad always says the day after surgery
Proves the most painful
I know. That sucks.
Barry, just as I wanted to go to Grandma's party
I really want to take care of Dad, but …
Mom, David is staying for at least a week. You just need to
Take care of yourself …
When Barry throws the crimson, decorative pillows off of
The cream colored couch, which is
Opposite the foot of my cream-colored, four postered, kingsize bed
I realize my eldest son's not done talking, so
Once he's stretched out and comfortable—
We discuss various aspects of his life—
Interesting, isn't it that the mothering instinct within my brain
Clicks on and functions just fine, no matter how comotose
The rest of my think tank seems to be …
After about fifteen minutes, our conversation winds down
Barry stands up and goes off to shower
I pick up the phone to call Will
Will listens to how disappointed I am in myself and replies:
Don't worry, Annie, really—I'll be fine …
Needless to say, this is before Will has come to understand
How quickly his energy will ebb once he's home …
Like when he and his catheter are in the shower, and
He's trying to fend for himself but the rawness of his incision
Won't let him bend past his waist …
February, 2014
Even now, it's impossible for me to think of insurance companies without feeling frustrated at the inhumane lack of compassion that's necessary to send anyone home so soon after a surgery as serious as this …
I wonder at Big Business grabbing control over society's think tanks so that mindsets, hypnotized by visions of corporate gain, block all sense of human pain from conscious awareness … I mean, seriously, how many times must we see A Christmas Carol before the lesson of one-for-all-and-all-for-one sinks in so deeply as to create lasting change for the better …
How often must insight inspire us to consider our vast waste of time and energy as each succeeding generation punches the time clock, working, overtime, to reinvent the wheel?? When will each of us gain insight into our need to embrace human vulnerability as our own, with honesty and grace—I mean, the only way to identify vulnerability in need of strengthening is by paying close attention whenever Socrates, hovering overhead, offers us another chance to KNOW THYSELF in greater depth, thus providing your spirit and mine greater reason to thrive … I mean, really—why can't we remember that we'll be tested, repeatedly, until we recall that the answers we seek are inside us, no matter how hard the 'shoulds' work to hide that which is actually natural from conscious awareness …
Seriously—I stopped feeling like a survivor when my mind began to work toward expanding my comfort zones by examining my closed mind sets, which had blinded me from embracing endless opportunities to enjoy life as a high spirited thriver, more often than not, regardless of my age.
As nothing stays the same, open minds embrace wisdom passed down by sages through the ages while closed minds grow ever more wizened with age, and having said that, I'll leave you to ponder upon one last mind bending puzzle until we meet, tomorrow:
Each time you approach a fork in the road, which path beckons to you?
The path where societal judgement limits your scope or
The path where common sense and passion, walking hand in hand
Brainstorm toward simple, solution seeking plans?
I feel the heavy weight of being
Thoroughly disappointed in myself
Once again, my muscles are clenched, tightly, actually painfully
Though I can't imagine what's going on inside me—
This I know without a shred of doubt:
Just as heightened levels of tension forbade me from
Flying to Mom's party, right before Will's surgery
I can't go to the hospital to pick up Will
Why not?
Every time I try to stand up, I feel faint …
And here is why I've never felt so stymied in my life:
Whenever anxiety had spiked in the past
I could name my fear
So, while lying petrified in bed, I ask:
What the heck is terrifying me, again?
How am I going to tell Will that
I can't come to bring him home, because
Some unnamed, terrorizing foe is
Attacking me in our bed?
How am I going to tell my sons that
I'm too petrified of I-don't-know-what to perform
Every day acts like
Showering, getting dressed and riding as a passenger
While we three pick up their dad?
As long as I'm in this terrorized state, how will I
Take good care of Will, who
Is being discharged 22 hours after such a serious surgery?
If I was able to laugh, last night, why do I feel
Disraught to the point of feeling faint, each time
I try to stand up?
Where is insight? Intuition? Any sign of
What this is that's scaring me half to death …
I mean, seriously—if anxiety is my defense system's warning to
Remain alert then—
WHY CAN'T I NAME WHATEVER I'M ALERTING MYSELF TO???
Unfortunately, while curled up in a ball on my bed …
Mental block does not consciously occur to me—yet …
Next thing I know, Barry knocks at my bedroom door …
Mercifully, my sons are not as hard on me as I am on myself …
Though they don't understand my reaction any more than I do
Negatively focused judgements are not falling on my head, and
Thank goodness, I'm not carrying the added stress of that!
In answer to Barry's knock on the door, I respond, Come in
My son takes one look at me and says:
You don't feel any better, do you, Mom?
No I say, disheartened … but I'll figure this out—
Then I continue with: Barry, I can't come with to pick up Dad
I can see that, Mom …
I'm so frustrated to think that because of insurance
He'll not be in the hospital, receiving intravenous pain relief
For at least another day. Dad always says the day after surgery
Proves the most painful
I know. That sucks.
Barry, just as I wanted to go to Grandma's party
I really want to take care of Dad, but …
Mom, David is staying for at least a week. You just need to
Take care of yourself …
When Barry throws the crimson, decorative pillows off of
The cream colored couch, which is
Opposite the foot of my cream-colored, four postered, kingsize bed
I realize my eldest son's not done talking, so
Once he's stretched out and comfortable—
We discuss various aspects of his life—
Interesting, isn't it that the mothering instinct within my brain
Clicks on and functions just fine, no matter how comotose
The rest of my think tank seems to be …
After about fifteen minutes, our conversation winds down
Barry stands up and goes off to shower
I pick up the phone to call Will
Will listens to how disappointed I am in myself and replies:
Don't worry, Annie, really—I'll be fine …
Needless to say, this is before Will has come to understand
How quickly his energy will ebb once he's home …
Like when he and his catheter are in the shower, and
He's trying to fend for himself but the rawness of his incision
Won't let him bend past his waist …
February, 2014
Even now, it's impossible for me to think of insurance companies without feeling frustrated at the inhumane lack of compassion that's necessary to send anyone home so soon after a surgery as serious as this …
I wonder at Big Business grabbing control over society's think tanks so that mindsets, hypnotized by visions of corporate gain, block all sense of human pain from conscious awareness … I mean, seriously, how many times must we see A Christmas Carol before the lesson of one-for-all-and-all-for-one sinks in so deeply as to create lasting change for the better …
How often must insight inspire us to consider our vast waste of time and energy as each succeeding generation punches the time clock, working, overtime, to reinvent the wheel?? When will each of us gain insight into our need to embrace human vulnerability as our own, with honesty and grace—I mean, the only way to identify vulnerability in need of strengthening is by paying close attention whenever Socrates, hovering overhead, offers us another chance to KNOW THYSELF in greater depth, thus providing your spirit and mine greater reason to thrive … I mean, really—why can't we remember that we'll be tested, repeatedly, until we recall that the answers we seek are inside us, no matter how hard the 'shoulds' work to hide that which is actually natural from conscious awareness …
Seriously—I stopped feeling like a survivor when my mind began to work toward expanding my comfort zones by examining my closed mind sets, which had blinded me from embracing endless opportunities to enjoy life as a high spirited thriver, more often than not, regardless of my age.
As nothing stays the same, open minds embrace wisdom passed down by sages through the ages while closed minds grow ever more wizened with age, and having said that, I'll leave you to ponder upon one last mind bending puzzle until we meet, tomorrow:
Each time you approach a fork in the road, which path beckons to you?
The path where societal judgement limits your scope or
The path where common sense and passion, walking hand in hand
Brainstorm toward simple, solution seeking plans?
No comments:
Post a Comment