xv
prev.cont.I started the day in such a bad mood that I had to talk myself through it. I talked to myself in the shower, while I got dressed, and on my drive to the pediatrician's office. I think it worked, because I walked into clinic with way more confidence than usual.
When I got home, my room suddenly felt suffocating, so I decided that it needed to be completely rearranged. I moved everything to a different spot. The bed next to the window. The dresser rotated 90 degrees. The rocking chair pushed into a corner. I took a step back to admire my handiwork and was immediately disgusted by it. I put everything back the way it was.
Then I considered going back to therapy. I won’t. There would be no point. My therapist can’t make the weird year end, so any of his suggestions would feel patronizing. Also, fuck him.
The permanent retainer on my bottom teeth broke yesterday, right before I went to the dentist. She told me that I need to get fitted for a new one, and that I’ll have to wear it every night. I’m not doing that, obviously. My teeth can do as they please. Clearly they were sick of being retained in the first place. It would be stupid to put a piece of plastic in my mouth and retain them further. I’m sure they’d revolt against me somehow.
I’m sick of being retained. I have no interest in forcing any part of my bodymind into one position or another. I need to identify and eliminate anything in my life that’s trying to retain me.
The above ground retains me. It forces me into postures that I would never otherwise assume. Trying to stand up straight in the operating room for eight hours at a time, wearing plastic clothes and two pairs of gloves and a shield over my eyes, just to watch a surgeon make an incision down the length a man’s leg to replace an artery with a vein. I never would’ve thought to do something like that. Who could ever dream up something so perverse?
To survive in this retained state, I have to tell myself that these kinds of experiences are a gift. "What a gift it is to witness the magic of modern medicine!" I never believe it, but it’s worth a shot.
June is almost over. We're halfway there. The year is half full. Isn’t it true that the second halves of things tend to go quicker than the first?
Maybe when the end starts to come into view, I’ll want to hold on. Isn’t that how these things go? I’ll have spent all this time wishing it away, and then when we get to December, I’ll wish it wouldn’t end.
For now, every fiber of my being is slowly expanding, pushing the retainer to the brink of breaking.
exit