Crash

Tags

Accident, Anxiety, Bike stack, Confusion, Crash, Depression, EMDR, Fear, Gravel rash, Injuries, Intuition, Mojo, Panic attacks, super powers, Unemployed

Been in a funny little funk this week. And its made it hard to write, damnit. Which really doesn’t help matters.

Where there’s movement after a long period of stagnation, often what you get is the discovery of more stuff to deal with. You couldn’t see it before coz there was so much else in the way…

Fell off my bike the weekend before this one. Took a major tumble. I’ve mentioned my clumsiness before… Somehow though, I managed to not break any bones, trash my clothing, and I didn’t wreck my bike. Overall, it was a pretty successful stack (Aussie term for fall/crash).

Returning from my yoga studies course, I was travelling on the footpath (which I don’t do a lot, but this was a busy road), and probably going just a touch too fast (ahem, when would I do that??). So when the broken footpath came into view, it was too late to avoid it. Just beyond this nasty piece of trouble was dirt – not helpful when you’re trying not to skid.

I could see what was gonna happen, and so I called on possibly the only super-power I actually do have… the ability to think clearly as I fall, and do what I can to minimise the end result.

As in, make sure my fingers aren’t in bad places, don’t try to break the fall with an outstretched hand (which can result in broken wrists) and try to relax as much as possible. The opposite of ‘bracing for impact’. Also, I threw myself off my bike, knowing I didn’t really want a handle bar or any other part lodged firmly against my ribs, for example.

‘Course, that doesn’t mean that I got off scot-free. Hardly! As I lay there fully stretched out on my belly, arms in front of me… trying to asses if I was okay, a lovely, well-meaning dude (himself a cyclist) came over to see if I was alright. But then, without warning tried to lift me to my feet, grabbing me under the shoulders while standing in front of me, causing my back to arch upwards… Don’t do that, please, I begged.

He looked offended, but I explained, I need to get up a little more gently. And y’know, its handy to understand if someone is really injured or not, before hauling them up by the shoulders! Rolling to one side and sitting up was much more ideal, once adrenaline stopped pumping so hard and I could start to feel the extent of my injuries.

Thank goodness for cycling gloves, is all I could think while inspecting the trashed palms of my gloves (grateful it wasn’t my hands). Elbows didn’t fair so well, though. The day was warm and I was dressed in an orange North Face t-shirt, not really ideal for cycling (though tempting when you think you’re invincible on a warm day).

Oh yes, it wasn’t pretty.

It was gravel rash.

Both elbows and knees, and my stomach. Found out later I was also gifted with a bruised boob. Ouch!

Left elbow was the worst. But both were nicely mashed up. Blood, dirt, tiny pebbles. Profusely stinging.

And what was that? My left shoulder was putting in a serious complaint. Didn’t have time to think about it too much, coz I was in danger of fainting.

The nice old guy checked my bike was okay and seeing I wasn’t in need of emergency treatment, directed me to a nearby seat. Which I needed, to catch my breath and make sure I was okay.

I needed to regroup if I was gonna cycle another five kilometers home.

Almost there, I dragged my bruised and battered self into the pharmacy conveniently placed on the road home… got pain killers and bandages and stuff from a very unsympathetic looking pharmacist.

Luckily as I said, nothing broken. I did wonder though, where my hot male nurse was… the one who shoulda been there to pick up the pieces!

So, anyway. Here I am, just finished a course of EMDR therapy. I’ll go and see my therapist again in a month. Just to see how things are going.

But on top of the physical meshing of body against pavement… there’s been another sort of crash.

Or, perhaps the best word is… panic.

No job. Again. No income. Limited stores of cash that won’t last forever. The job market is D-E-A-D and I’m not even getting a nibble from applications I’ve sent in! Doom and gloom on the news, unemployment’s jumped x%. Whatever skills I have, they’re only useful as long as there’s demand for them…

But there’s actually a bunch of work in my field in Sydney right now. So what am I doing here, anyway? In Melbourne? With nothing really going for me? The only thing that’s actually working for me here, is my yoga course. The whole move-to-Melbourne-and-become-closer-to-my-family thing was a wash. Of course, there’s my beautiful nieces.

But they aren’t my life. That’s my sister’s family, not mine. As for me? I’m trying to get my life back on track, fighting really hard for that and… its one thing after another.

Not to mention… my mojo has vanished! That little light of intuition, voices in my head that talk to me, tell me stuff… well, its been radio silence almost all of the last couple of weeks.

So what the heck am I doing again? Do I actually have a point, here? I’m not so sure about that right now…

That panic attack it seems, was just waiting for a clearing to have its turn. And so I couldn’t write. Couldn’t do anything much, especially in the last week… and I’m not feeling pulled in any one direction or the other. Nothing to guide me. Nothing.

And that’s where I am, still.

Got ordered out of the house on Friday by a friend… which helped but still, I’m not cool with all this nothingness. Though as a yogini, I darn well should be!

I know, I know. I’m still healing, moving on from demons of the past. Licking my wounds. Give myself a break. Yaadayaadayaada…

~Svasti

Monsters in the closet

Tags

death, Dreams, Drink Me, Fake tan, hallway monster, heart break, imagination, loo, Mad Hatters Tea Party, monsters, Queen of Hearts, super powers, wenches

There’s method in my madness, although it may be utterly unintelligible to others, or even to my own good self.

One of my many, many quirks is this – I’ve always considered my imagination to be a secret weapon, kind of like a super power.

As a young child, I had a wildly over-active mind, full of ghosts and goblins and invisible people. Who knows, perhaps some of them were really there? Anyway, two main night-time fantasies persisted, around the concept of monsters.

My monsters looked a little like Sully (see pic) although perhaps a little scarier.

First – I had this idea that when us kids had gone to bed, my parents took off their ‘skins’ and underneath they were really monsters. I never thought they wanted to kill us or anything, just that they had another ‘face’ we never saw.

Second – there was a hallway monster, who wasn’t either of my parents. And he was really scary! He hung around outside my bedroom door which meant he was in the way of me getting to the toilet. I learned I could have a ‘conversation’ with him, in which we made a deal. He could be outside my room all he wanted, except when I needed to go to the loo (Aussie word for ‘toilet’). And since we never formally crossed paths, I figured it worked. 😉

As I graduated from monsters to real life fears, I found different ways to use my imaginal powers. I had endless horrific nightmares from the ages of 10-16. I dreamt not only of my own death, but that of almost every person I knew. I’ve been at my funeral many times over in my dream world. Some of the dreams I dreamt of others were frightening. Like the one where my sister was beheaded and no matter what I tried I couldn’t stop them…

In response to my night time terrors I actively imagined all sorts of things. I had this theory that if I dreamt or thought of it first, it could no longer come true in the real world. In this way, I protected the people I loved because I’d taken away horrible possibilities by thinking about them already. Weird, I know!

Moving into adulthood, my terror became that of heart break. I would seek to expunge the ‘last memory’ of being somewhere special with ex-boyfriends/partners by taking myself back to those places whenever I could. So they no longer held any fear or sadness and once again became ‘just a place’.

It seems like another lifetime ago that I had these funny ideas and ways of handling my emotions.

The exception is dealing with the ‘Andre’ stuff.

I’ve been near and around where he lives, but not by design. It wasn’t so long ago I figuratively dropped my lunch when my therapist asked me how I’d handle things if I ever did come face to face with Andre again. I’ve never purposely sought out any of the places I’d spent time with him.

But tomorrow night I’m going back to the ‘scene of the crime’: the club where we first met. And that’s because my good friend L and I are going to a fancy dress party!!

Hence the fake tan. The reality of my costume involves a fair bit of flesh on display and my beautiful Thai suntan has faded in Melbourne’s lingering Winter.

The fake tan is also a thin chemical layer of protection. Something between me and… the spectres of ‘past-Svasti’ and ‘past-Andre’.

Actually, I’m not really going there on purpose to exorcise ghosts – its just there was a party on that I damn-well wanted to go to! And I decided, after three years I’m way past ready, damnit!

L knows the deal with all that stuff ofcourse, and we’re both there for each other in the good chick friendship kind of way as well as the – let’s be dirty little stop outs kind of way…

Logical brain says – I don’t expect he will be there. Ofcourse he won’t be there. I know he won’t be there.

Fear says – but what if by some freak happenstance he is there?

Shut up says my intuition. Its just not gonna happen, okay?

I’m going over to L’s place after work tomorrow. We’re picking up our costumes on the way. At her place we’ll primp and preen, do hair and make up, help each other into our outfits and drink outrageous amounts of vodka.

The theme is ‘Mad Hatters Tea Party’. And we’re going as wenches at the Queen of Hearts’ court. Ofcourse! There’s a red velvet corset, a short, sassy bustle-y skirt and some stay up fishnets coming my way. And a faux black velvet hat. Plus accoutrements.

Should be a hoot. I really and truly don’t party like this very much or very often. Must be the arrival of Spring – both L and I decided it was time to let our hair down and then the party came up.

Actually, I’m so darn toey that I’m just hoping there’s fun with some tall, dark ‘n’ handsome Mad Hatters – and I betcha anything if I opened the “Drink Me” bottle, there’d be some short term amnesia involved…

~Svasti

P.S. Jay – no rude remarks about the number of posts I’ve made this week please!! Yesterday’s came out of nowhere and so did today’s. Sometimes a girl’s just gotta write…

P.P.S. I’m still in a little bit of shock that I’m actually gonna post this to my blog…