Gah! Fix it!

As a result of the accident, I went to a chiropractor. He had me go to a digital imaging place and have a bajillion x-rays done (on my insurance company's dime, which is a-OK with me). He could find no real internal injuries due to the accident, but you know what he did tell me? My posture sucks. Like, really sucks. So much that my neck, which is supposed to have a curve in it, is almost completely straight. My head is misaligned forward, my right femur is a full 4mm higher than my left (a big deal apparently), one of my vertebrae is bigger on one side than the other, and basically I am falling apart from the inside out. Woo hoo!

So I felt broken and crappy for a while, and pissed at my bones. You read that right, I was angry with my own skeleton. I was so distraught at my raft of physical imperfections that it bummed me out for the rest of the day. As I was driving home I started to tear up (I've been rather emotional lately) and then suddenly, something felt familiar. The panic, the tensing of my shoulders, the crying, the wanting to quit (for I was at that very moment thinking of how I should just get into bed and stay there for the rest of my life) felt exactly how I used to feel when I was taking chemistry and I just didn't understand a concept or why the results I was getting on a lab weren't in line with the expected projections. It felt just like I felt when I received my Marylhurst writing assessment with results that were good but not the lavish praise I was expecting. And it occurred to me that these three things are the same for me, that they all feed into this fear of not being good enough, the single biggest demon that has haunted my steps since day one.

I may talk a big game about the beauty of imperfection and wave around my super-cool tattoo, but when it comes down to it, recognizing imperfection in myself makes me uncomfortable as hell. It makes me feel unsafe, as if any moment I might be discovered and ridiculed or punished for not being good enough. It makes me take up the charge, again, of "I will! somehow! find a boyfriend!" as if someone else liking me enough to hang out with me will somehow fill in that deep well of inadequacy. As if someone else thinking I'm perfect would ever be enough to override my own fears. I think we all know me well enough by now to know that isn't true.

What then? Upon reflection, my few options become abundantly clear. I can continue to expect perfection of myself and freak out when I realize I'm not perfect. I can continue to expect perfection of myself and find some magical way to actually BE perfect. I can try to stop expecting perfection of myself. Ha. Would that I were perfect enough to not expect perfection ;)

But...yeah, I guess I should try that.

xo,
C

Luck & love

I'm less mad today, even though I now know that my insurance company wants me to come up with $1000 before they'll fix my car.  Instead, today has been filled with reminiscences, bittersweetness, and the realization that I am very, very lucky to have so many tomorrows ahead of me. 

Hard to believe it was three years ago today that I wrote this, about my breakup with T.  So many things have happened since then, so many things I never could have predicted.  I know I say this a lot lately (like that's a bad thing?), but this is such a freaking beautiful life I'm living.  Sure, it has its challenges and difficult moments, but the most important thing is that every inch of it fits me.  For someone like me who didn't know anything about myself a few short years ago, that is pretty fantastic. 

Anyway, happy valentine's day.  Here's to many more beautiful years.

xo,
C

Long overdue

I was in a car accident this morning. Just driving back from yoga, thinking about going to one of my favorite brunch places for coffee and eggs, when all of a sudden there was a green Subaru Forester where my open road should be. I remember the moments right before our cars collided: the second you realize the inevitable, that there's nothing you can do to avoid this accident, the tiniest edge of regret that you didn't see this coming. My life didn't flash before my eyes, in fact I had more of an "oh crap" reaction than an "I'm gonna die" one. And nobody was seriously injured, not me, not the driver of the other car or his passenger girlfriend or even the little puppy she'd held on her lap as our two cars took a bite out of each other's front ends. So that's a good thing, everyone is okay.

For my part I'm dealing with some bumps and bruises, a swollen knee from where it hit the dash, a wide painful section of my chest where the seatbelt held me back from flying through the windshield. Physically, that's it. Mentally is a whole other thing. I'm of course dealing with the shock and trauma that comes from being in an accident, but I'm finding that other things are being dredged up as well. For instance, right now I find myself nursing a little ball of anger emblazoned with the name of the driver in the other car. He certainly didn't mean to hit me and is probably just as worked up about the whole situation right now as I am. He can't undo it. There's really nothing he can possibly do to make it right, and still I'm angry at him. Maybe that's why. Maybe I'm angry at him because it can't be undone, can't be made right. Maybe I'm angry because it's just not fair. Because it's not, but then what in life is? Which is another interesting wrinkle in this story because I find that in addition to my anger for this young gentleman, anger is bubbling up over other things, things that happened long ago, that were also unfair and also can't be helped. Things that can never be made better. I find myself overwhelmingly pissed at every remotely crappy thing that has ever happened in my life. Every cutting remark, every moment I have felt ignored, every pointed look is kindling for this internal fire. The teacher who pulled me aside as a little girl and told me I should go home and lose weight, the boy who told me he didn't want to go with me to the homecoming dance because he was waiting for someone better to ask him, every struggle I ever had with my parents or my brother or my ex or my former boss or anyone is another crumpled up newspaper on the roaring blaze.

That Forester seems to have knocked loose whatever stopper was containing this anger and it seems to me that it's a far healthier thing to let it burn for a while than to cork it back up. I'll check back in when things have calmed down, but right now I'm just mad as hell.