$210

Cleaned up the batteries

changed a few lightbulbs

Still no cupholder (GD!!!)

Still something to do with an axel

I do have a new serpentine belt.

I'll make it to Cali. and that's what matters, right?

quitting is a-ok

i quit my Big Sellout job this morning! and i quit smoking 10-ish days ago! i am happy. the wheels are in motion. they are firmly secured to the wagon, just like my head on my shoulders.

heck yeah.

liz and i care about our health

After the bbq at Malinda's, we wanted to make sure the beef hadn't hit too hard. Too late.

and again

today i:

put on my own shoes with moderate ease.

took the stairs one at a time, up and down. (with grimace).

took out the trash.

sat for more than an hour at a public event. then i left.

had to leave work early because of an excruciating spasm in my right shoulder.

today i still can't:

disconnect the washing machine from the sink.

open my mouth wide enough to fit a sandwich

reach my face with my left hand: which means i can't apply mousturizer, do my hair, eat with my left hand, or put on lipstick.

carry a bag home from the grocery (2 blocks) without screaming pain in my shoulder.

baby steps. just because i feel "better every day" doesn't mean I "am better."

this is new

today i can walk an almost normal pace.

yesterdy i was on 1/2 gear, the one before even first, where everyone looks at you funny cause why are you walking So Slow when you look totally normal? oh, is that why you're also crying?

last night i rolled over and kissed my lover. softly.

this morning i got up and out of bed, without worrying for 20, 30, 40 minutes, if i would be able to.

I haven't woken up crying for at least three nights.

the thing about Big Pharma is that they are making me feel like myself again. Fun, easy, and able. and i can' thelp but be grateful. so so so grateful. i even washed some clothes last night.

Postscript:
I also trudged home at five pm in tears, knowing i couldn't walk far enough to get to the movie i had hoped to see. and i had to call up for drug delivery, because there was no way i could climb the stairs. but the drugs kicked in over dinner, and then i made it home. and thank god for sexual helaing on top of it all.

asthma

it's a long story, but the homeless "mooing man" has defined my art practice.

in other news, i forgot.

strong back

Arch noticed the other night how strong how ON my back is. she'd never felt a back like that. and i know it's strong and i know it's Because I Dance, and it is part of the reason i am so terrified to take a break.

my knees do not look like each other, one lacks bone definition almost entirely (it's under ice packs now because I love myself), and I've hobbled around all day. so why do i insist on thinking i can go to dance rehearsal tomorrow?

because of my stong back. because of my Hot Thighs and Strong Legs. because i have spent my whole life training my body and maybe i don't agree with all of that training but nonetheless i am so afraid that if i go away from this Dance Work for too long i will lose my Self. that i'll get skinny, undefined calves, that i will lose my awesome presence or posture or my legs won't go anywhere when i try and toss them.

but come on Rebecca. I've quit before, and the rhythms stay in me. i will not lose my body overnight and anyway haven't i lost it already? this is not "me," who hobbles around and has to remind herself not to walk like an old woman. it's not "me" who cries as she walks up (or down) stairs, hanging on the banister.

and maybe if i can give the me who's doing all of this a little time to recover, I'll come back as the me i imagine myself as, the one i'm trying desperately to pretend i still am.

or maybe i'll come back better.

so tomorrow i'm off. i'm sleeping in, i'm reading magazines, i'm "working from home" in bed. and i am giving myself time to heal. i am giving myself an entire week, and then maybe more. we'll see how that goes.

i love you, me.