#349

So depressed that it resembles a psychotic break. Well, I have been. Feel almost as though I may be settling into a more regular depression, a more businesslike, by-the-book point on the graph. One can hope.

Anyway, well enough to see how this goes. We'll see.

*

Things were already trending downwards faster than I could calibrate for when I tripped coming down the stairs at school. I'd like to blame it on the new flip-flops I was wearing, rather than countenace the idea that I run down stairs too quickly, but both are merely factors. The truth is baldly Freudian; I wished to punish myself for being depressed, for not working at the moment, for not feeling up to dealing with school, for sabotaging myself, and expressed it by a slip. 

Rather than maybe break my neck or bruise my spine, I pushed off the stairs with both legs as hard as I possibly could, and sailed over the remaining steps to the ground below. All would have been well if I had managed to land on my shoulder and transfer some momentum, but I landed on my arm as much as my shoulder, my full weight coming down on my elbow. I skidded about for feet, my forearm twisting under me as I slid. First pain, and then a much worse numbness spreading through the arm. 

I'll just say it. There was dude at the door at the bottom of the stairs, who heard the sound of my impact and turned to see me slide to a stop. 

"Holy...are you ok?"

I leaped to my feet as though I were a teenager and not a man preparing to enter into his mid-thirties. 

"Yup!" I chirped. "The flip flopped!"

And smartly turned away from him and strode out the door, listing to the left and rather cringing my whole torso in that direction as well. 

Finally, like a complete fucking idiot, after a few cursory stretches and extensions, I hopped on my bike and rode all the way home. I know better than that. It could not be more tectbook self-sabotage, sailing boldly down denial.

It got pretty bad. Not a pretty bruise, not a fun time. But it's been healing steadily. Fucked up my lateralis tendon, elbow's still tender, the points on the wrist and forearm that hurt when your tendon's not doing its job hurt all right, but it's stronger, more mobile, and less painful every day. 

*

Broke down and ended the year's streak of nonfiction. I found a paperback of Brian Jacques' Loamhedge and the memory of it, the fact that I hadn't read it in years, plus how awful I was feeling (that night I had an insomnia attack and didn't sleep a wink) drove me to its refuge. Oh, how I wept that night. How I needed it, how it hurt and soothed. 

Star Wars has also been fucking me up. Ahsoka rocked me.

*

Ok cool. I also carved a pumpkin. And forgot to take a midterm. My volition is completely shot and I waste much of every day pacing. May God bless you this All Hallow's Eve (tomorrow).

Peace

--JL