i felt pretty sad today, when i woke up.
my joints were sad, my toes were sad, my eyes were sad. my hands, bruised from using crutches, felt sad. my ribs were sad. my tongue was sad from all the saltine crackers that i eat every day. i felt sad that my writing is about being injured. everything feels sore. even my heart. i felt sad that i have been absent as a friend, that i spend long hours sleeping and feeling numb instead of being present in relationships. i felt sad that i make people uncomfortable, and that people feel pity for me when they hear what happened. i felt sad that people are too careful around me now. i felt sad that people stopped talking about dancing around me because i cannot dance. i felt sad that “easy” tasks like doing laundry and carrying a cup of water to my desk are really hard now, and require help from someone else. i felt sad that i write about this every day. i felt that maybe i am being punished for something.
i hobbled over to the kitchen table. the sunlight outside was happy. it was a romantic kind of day, droopy and hot, bright and hopeful. i’m so lucky to live in Texas, where it’s sunny almost every day.
today was another trip to the doctor. he decided today that i should be in a wheelchair instead of crutches, which definitely gave me some mixed emotions. maybe i’ll learn how to do cool tricks in the wheelchair (just kidding). it made me happy that my doctor has a sense of humor. he taught me how to do what he calls “ballerina stretches,” and told me that i could perform in ballets when this is all over. i laughed.
i listened to some romantic-day kind of music. i spent a lot of time staring out the window.
i ate some more watermelon and told myself, it’s no use feeling sad. it’s a decision to be happy. we can make that decision every day, and spend our energy towards happiness. isn’t that a better use of our thoughts anyway?
as it turns out, i can still be enthusiastic about life. i don’t have to feel guilty for it. so i’ll do some tricks in my wheelchair. i’ll rub my joints and ribs and hands a little, and teach them to be happy again. i’ll decide that it’s okay to write about my injuries every day until i get better, until i don’t feel like i need to write about them anymore. and it’s okay to write about being grateful every day. it’s a choice we make.