Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Pity Party Wallow

Okay, so I fell again a few minutes ago. A small fall, resulting in what will no doubt be some ugly bruising on my arm and knee. The good news is each fall has been smaller than the one before. The bad news is I continue to fall. More good news, I still bounce and bruise rather than break. More bad news, I hurt a LOT more than I used to.

This fall was a mere nothing. I was on my knees - yes, knees, apparently you can fall from a kneeling position, too - having just scooped the cat box, which requires me to be on my knees, since it's tucked into the ONLY available corner of the house behind the bathroom door. Fine. Odious job done, bag of used litter in hand, I reached up and leaned my OTHER elbow on the sink edge for leverage in getting up. But it slipped off and bang! I fell over, hitting my upper arm and knee on the way. More good news - the cat litter stayed in the bag and the bag didn't break, either. I pulled myself together, got up, hurting a LOT, and then the sheer, desperate, hopelessness of the whole thing hit me - aGAIN. I don't know how to fix this, how to get back to my old self, who was strong and powerful and could overcome any obstacle. I suddenly feel old and frail and scared. I ask myself, "Only old people I truly old enough for this to be a normal thing, all this falling? this lack of control? this feeling of power lost?" And if it is, if I truly AM in a real decline, not just some temporary one, what. is. the. point.? What frakking value do I serve by continuing to consume the resources of this planet? How, to use my father's best-remembered maxim, am I making the world a better place because I'm here?

I'm just indulging in a solid wallow in self-pity, partially because of the above, and partially because V suggested I wasn't thinking about where I was putting my feet or what I was doing when I was getting up. After feeling incredible frustration over his words, I screamed "This is NOT my FAULT!" and then told him to leave me the hell alone. I mean, come ON... If I have to expect 20 years ahead of me of needing to actually focus on and THINK about where my foot/hand/etc. is going in the next second and the next and the next, then I have HAD it this round. Check, please.

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