I am not comfortable with vulnerability. [Excuse me while I choke on my laughter and pee in my pants at this small understatement.]
Where was I? Ahem. Indeed, this small but fundamental fact about myself was driven home of late by an unexpected turn of events triggered by my attempts to limit the pain and dysfunction caused by muscle spasticity in my back, torso, leg, arm and hand. No sighs pul-lease, it's only on one side of my body (see what I mean...)
Depending on who you ask I strong-armed (get it??) or politely accepted the plan of my neurologist to give me approximately 60 injections of botox in said areas. I was planning to be pain-free and totally relaxed (not to mention much, much younger- a toddler really) for 3 months for the price of an hour of injections with needles so long and sharp they glint with desperation.
Long story short, stupid idea. I ended up with total right sided paralysis for close to a week followed by extreme (and on-going) weakness. And then I ended up in my therapist's office wondering what these strange and disconcerting emotions were (shame, vulnerability and anger, apparently). She reminded me that I am not a total stranger to these phantoms (huh?) as she remembered me processing them in my blog back in the day when I used to process. anything. [Sidenote: My kickass and saintly therapist read my blog- I WIN, er won, I guess, since it's been a few years since she had anything new to read].
Despite the fact that it has taken me 2 weeks, a considerable amount of Valium and countless hours searching for my login and password, I'm baa-ack! For what it is worth I'm committed to resuming processing of and communicating about all of the messy shit in my head that apparently grows teeth when I ignore it. Small, sharp kitty teeth laden with flesh-eating bacteria which, when sunken into my flesh, requires a hospital visit and more needles. I'm pretty much done with needles- what choice do I have? Fo real.
P.S. Being the social media hermit that I am, I was unaware until recently that the blogger is supposed to actually respond to the comments left by readers. Like every other form of communication, I read them, responded brilliantly in my head, and did nothing else. Leave me a comment now and I promise to respond. As soon as I get through 2 years of emails, voicemails and texts that have met a similar fate as the comments so generously offered the first time around.