Sunday, April 16, 2017


Adaptation is tricky. It's a Goldilocks situation. Neither adapt too little nor too much. All things require balance. My physical therapists, occupational therapists, (neurologist even) are stunned by my range of motion and physical abilities in spite of all things. I put that down to my past commitment to yoga. Balance. My psychologist in rehab, however, sees the dark side of my adaptability. I twist and curve and shape myself around external forces, spiritually and socially, to survive. I said yesterday I am not interested in my pain, and I meant that. I find it boring, self indulgent, and exhausting. That being said, I have a need to extract the thoughts and feelings that snake around my field of vision and fling them at the world. I am engorged with me-ness...and consequentially can not be me. Raging at the world I find myself in, I need room inside for new feelings, new courage, new ideas. Calls to senators and representatives=check, but I am better than that. I have more. All this word vomit is me making room to find out the form that more will take.

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