By nature I am not what one would want to call graceful. I’m clumsy. Stupid clumsy. I don’t know if it really happened more than once, but I have multiple memories of walking behind the glider on our swing set and getting knocked square in the face. In my head this happened a lot. I played tag so hard once that I tripped and fell and smashed up my face. I ripped my shoulder throwing bags at the airport. I broke my foot at work by dropping a box on it. The night before we left for a volleyball tournament in grade 8 I jumped up to the net for a block and came back down on my ankle. Not the side of my foot. My ankle.
I’m scarred beyond recognition. Okay, that’s not true, but there are parts of me I hide because of scarring. That’s true on a mental/emotional level as well. I’m scarred. I’m clumsy with my head and my heart and my body. To be fair, I think some of the body issues are related to my tiny feet.
But Sunday, I got roped into hosting one of our open mic nights. I hate hosting things. I do. My brain doesn’t have fun with it. It goes right into business mode. “Must keep the time. Must pay attention.” But as the first act went up, I’m told, I was walking on a booth bench, and I hit my head on a thick, wooden crossbeam. I filled in the gaps and determined it was the top of my head. I know that because that’s where the bump is. And the cut. *It’s important that you know I don’t remember because of adrenaline and head hitting reasons. No alcohol was involved in the making of this concussion.* That night I didn’t really sleep, which was probably good. The next day I took a sick day, which was also probably good.
Semi-related, it’s important (it’s not important) that I tell you I love the word “concuss.” It’s easily my favorite verb. I am concussed.
Now though, I find myself sort of off. I think hitting my head knocked something loose. All day yesterday my Alice in Wonderland Syndrome was in full force. No warning, no bracing. Pure brain noise. It never quieted. I just had to deal with it and move forward. I woke up this morning around 3 a.m. in a full panic. From the moment I fell asleep until the moment I woke up I was chased by nightmares. Nightmares aren’t uncommon in my life. I’m quite prone to them. I blame them on an overactive imagination. But these weren’t normal ones, if that’s a thing. These have left me with my heart still racing 9 hours later. Now my brain is whirring with fears in my sleep and the nonsense of my own personal, less-than-wonderful Wonderland.
Maybe some day I’ll wake up.