Deep breath. Slow, even breaths. Things may feel out of your control. Remember those tiny movements inside your body that are constantly going. Things you’ve become so good at controlling you don’t even notice anymore. Your heart beats. Your lungs fill. Your blood pulses. Your eyes blink. You’re constantly hearing and seeing and smelling. You’ve decided to ignore your nose completely, even though you see it. You are in control of each tiny movement. Deep breath. Focus in.
You are more than another face on the earth. You are more than another body. You are an incredible mind. You are a beating heart. You are full of ideas and feelings and hopes. You are full of the strength and power to do so much. Keep being you. We need you.
You, friend, are incredible. You constantly amaze. The things you do. The people you love. You’re incredible. Don’t let anymore tell you otherwise. You are doing incredible things. With your mind. With your body. With your heart. You are incredible.
Dear one, so much is outside of your control. Breathe deep into yourself and embrace what you have. Exhale your need for control. Worrying cannot save you. In a week you won’t remember what you were worried about. Breathe in peace, exhale worry. You are in control of your mind and heart and body.
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.