The fact that my body is fragile and requires lots of care and concern to keep it from falling apart is never far from my mind. Thinking about it drives me mad and I kind of just want to escape this prison of a vessel over which I have such little control, but a brain tied together by pills is better than no brain at all. This is all probably not too healthy, but at least I get lot of poetry out of it.
Earlier this year (Last year? Probably last year. What is time anyway?)… Earlier in my timeline I injured my right wrist. I would say that I fractured it but they never actually settled on what I did to it. Let’s just say “injury” and move on. So I injured my right wrist, I’m right handed, I’m an artist, and I have anxiety. The best combination. So I had about a month or so of panicking that I’d never draw again and willing myself to HEAL FASTER, and now here I am. But I think about that sometimes, literally anytime my wrists or hands hurt, I think about how absolutely dependent on themI am to do the things I’m passionate about. Without them I couldn’t sculpt, or draw, or type, or do makeup, or make props, or put together costumes, or cook, or swim, or hike, or etc, etc. I mean, I’d figure it out, but wow I seriously appreciate the fact that I have functioning wrists and hands.
I recently spoke to web and app designer, Carlos Lopez and our discussion brought this topic to mind. He was telling me how lately he’s been having some wrist issues, and has been concerned about the possibility of carpal tunnel. He does coding, and having functional wrists is necessary for him. It’s a scary idea, losing the physical piece of you that you need, and if your livelihood or passion depends on certain part of the body you have be sure to take care of that it.
Singers take care of their voices, that’s their instrument. Actors and athletes keep their bodies functioning because those are professions of physicality. Whatever your thing is, there’s probably a piece of you that makes it work, that you have to care for. It’s annoying. Whether you have all your original organic pieces or not, living in a vessel you have to care for is a lot of work, but it is what it is. I don’t really have a moral here, I’ve just thrown a bit of anecdotal, vaguely philosophical, stream of consciousness anxiety at you. But hey, when did I ever guarantee perfection?