Judging by my Instagram feed, K-12 kids are starting back to school in CO. After approximately 18 years at home in 2020, some are headed back into the germy trenches and others are unsuccessfully logging into 26 different apps and carefully choosing which Zoom background will go with their new sweatpants.
And the question for parents across the nation is: How are you feeling?
That's a lob, right? Pretty damn terrible ought to cover it. No choice was a good choice and many (most?) didn't get to choose anyway.
OK, sure. There's maybe two people reading this who think COVID is a hoax. Hey, guys. I see you. I'm glad you keep reading my blog even though we're really different people. I'm also glad you'll be able to enjoy your kid-free time for the first time in 6 months. Truly. Mazel tov.
For the rest of us, it's a fraught day. And when I try to think of how to answer that question—How are you feeling?—all I can think is that this feels just like getting stitches. Just exactly like that.
You know the drill. They give you the shot of anesthetic and they tell you you won't feel a thing. At first that sounds good because whatever chasm you've carved into your body hurts like hell. Won't feel a thing, huh? Sign. Me. Up.
But then they give you the shot and they start doing their thing and you realize that either you have the world's worst superpower—feeling when you're supposed to be numb—or they lied to you.
As I'm writing this I'm realizing that I don't actually know which one it is. Either I've got great power (and great responsibility) or they're liars. But in my world, numb doesn't mean feeling nothing. Numb means not feeling the pain.
That's not the same thing, y'all.
The pain is gone, but you can still feel the pressure of needle poking through the flesh. You can still feel the thread slide through your skin. You can still feel the tug as they close the gap. Numb doesn't make you feel it any less. In fact, numb makes you more aware of what you're feeling than pain does.
That's how I'm feeling. More aware. Hyper aware, like any good survivor of trauma. I can't feel the pain. I also can't feel the pleasure, because numb won't take the bad without the good. But I'm feeling everything else.
The pressure: Did we make the right choice? Will she be safe?
The slide: Of course not. None of us are safe. We were never safe. It's a house of fucking cards.
The tug: It's 9:30. OK. 10:18. OK. 12:32. OK. OK. OK.
The whole right side of my head is numb. It has been since a surgery five years ago. I find it unpleasant, but not unfamiliar. Sometimes I worry my heart taught my head how to do it—how to live in the numbness. How to hum in the background, always feeling everything but the pain and the pleasure.
How does it feel?
It feels like stitches. Like closing a wound. Like everything but pleasure and everything but pain. Like the beginning of a scar. It feels like I signed up not to feel a thing, but someone lied to me. Or maybe these feels are just my superpower.
She's sure cute, though. Using my lunchbox and wearing her sneakers with a dress, just like her mama used to do.
thanks, Kim, for writing out EXACTLY how I'm 'feeling' … numb with a lot of discomfort poking at me constantly …. what a STRANGE time we are living through right now. I appreciate your boldness and honesty. And you know as I go through each day, my saving line/rope is tossed out to Jesus Who is holding me up and helping me place one foot in front of the next … It's one step at a time, for sure. I love you!!! Aunt Melanie
ReplyDeleteOne foot in front of the other. Just do the next right thing. These are mantras we've had to live by because what other choice do we have? I obviously find that naming whatever state I'm in is the most helpful way to process. If I can name it and define it and analyze it, I can get myself out of feeling like the victim of it and instead position myself as the architect. Yes, I'm numb. But I know what numb is. I know how it operates. I know how it controls me and how I control it. For me, knowledge is power :)
DeletePain is normal for so many situations that it is a requirement to survive. So 1 point for survival. No one who has ever existed on this earth missed that opportunity, not even Jesus. Personally, I think that pain & discomfort helps us to move on to a painless reward, or another reward. Pain certainly helped me to be a little more empathetic towards those who withstood my heavy handed dentistry. According to the bible, it allows me to be thankful (in all things). So, for those of us who are scripturalists (is that a word), it would seem grossly unfair for me to have skated through pain free, while Jesus was nailed to the cross. I don't like the thought that pain might be considered a building block for helping others, but I believe it is just that. So have I enough building blocks that I can move on to something pain free. That would be death. I think I would like to continue living a while longer. That being the case, I know the requirements. My prayers for you Kim have always been something with hope and less pain.
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