Waking up to a text from my best friend, “it’s going to be a great day” and me motherfucking it in my head as the body was not in agreement; the mind followed and I had to remind myself change your thoughts! Everyday has been a struggle over the last couple weeks. It all started with a golf outing that fried me and lit the MS up. Not a relapse but stuck me at a 10 in pain. The steroids I needed were unable due to ethics really because last time I asked the nurse practitioner she said, “everybody asks for that but I can’t.” Alcohol is the only over-the-counter medication that relieves the hurt and I hate that I need to turn to it so often but the day is long.
The isolation isn’t helping even though my buddy spent 11 days with me recently. Not one day came easy, I had to force myself through errands, dinners, and outings. A lot was accomplished but I made the mistake I always do, giving others a role to play. It didn’t occur to me how physically lacking he is. To watch him walk or drag the woodchips was painful but he’s always willing; maybe too much.
Even though I misrepresented things in my mind he really did aid my growth. I took him through meditation, grounding, and a yoga session which he said made him feel much better. It gave me the confidence I needed to feel comfortable instructing, especially with individuals who’s range of motion are lacking. Stopping to talk with him about form and breath allowed me to understand time expands when teaching; so I’m not worried about carrying over an hour.
Although my body has been feeling slightly better my mind isn’t. The lack of connection with humanity hurts even as I continue to try and reach out. Over the weekend I went to Art Crush downtown. My Browns bookbag was packed with shrimp quesadillas to hand out along with two paintings and a print of my new book. I set up outside a mystic shop who’s owner I’m acquainted with. Someone who I didn’t particularly care for I’ve turned into an ally which I see as huge win.
But even though the streets were crowded, shut down, chalk colored, and littered with confetti only one person came to talk to me. His name was Doug, a tall, bald headed, glasses wearing, well built, black man from North Dakota. We got to know each other as he obliged in a quesadilla and showed me pictures of him training Miss North Dakota. The conversation had run its course and the ask came, “give me $2.” I suppose it was more of a declaration than question but it pissed me off.
While the adrenaline released through my blood stream I thought, what the fuck are you going do with $2? Dream bigger! Trying to regain my composure with an understanding I said, “you can have $2 or another shrimp quesadilla.” Doug hymned and hawed but I quickly restored my belief in abundance saying, “oh you want both huh.” I had two of the Washington twins with me for parking which I didn’t need because the street was shut before the parking garage and everyone ended up in a free lot, so I handed over what I had to someone who asked.
Doug didn’t strike me as homeless or down on his luck. His appearance was clean and his communication skills were crisp. He smiled joyfully especially when he told me Trump was really black, ha! For someone who prides themself on reading others I was totally off. We really never know what someone is going through.
The sun set on a 3rd Friday with 2 books let go, shrimp quesadilla’s distributed, and business cards handed out. I didn’t want to bubble wrap, load, and carry two 46×38 paintings downtown but I pushed through. I didn’t want to cook, tin foil wrap, and then engage my community with food but I pushed through. Did it make a difference?
If I took the standard approach I lost money. The woman next to me, Pat, got me for the new book, a queso, and $20 for one of her pieces. I gave White Blazing, book 3, to Tammy, who is quite an impressive artist in the Tri-ad. Then I had Doug, food cost, my health, and time.
‘The struggle is real,” was often quoted by single mom friend at USF but if I never struggled how would I know what success felt like? And even though I didn’t make any sales or killer contacts I participated. At the end of the day I did my best. I could’ve made many excuses not to but I showed.
Pushing through the waking hours without the support, recognition, and love I desire is daunting. But I have to remind myself not to give others a role to play and happiness starts within. It’s not found in art sales, promotions, partners, or accolades. It’s found in a piece of mind that I’m proud of myself, love myself, forgive myself, and know I’ve put my best effort in. This is no easy task when one is isolated not just in the surroundings of others but unable to express what is under the surface.
My disconnection with my peers has never felt so wide. I’m seeing things so clearly without reacting even though I feel the rush at times. This became clear in my online dating journey with a recent match. She bitched about her job and other dudes at a 10 but her statements where in text form and incoherent. When it was my turn to talk, I simply asked what she wanted and why she deserved it. This was met by an emotional shock and awe on Baghdad. So I calmly repeated the question but she couldn’t answer it. She hung up on me but continued to text, “you made me cry.” Then a phone call with more of an understanding and acceptance but no apology; a step too far that day.
Being the head of a household of 3 kids is tenacious and I can only empathize through my caregiving experience but the routine is ingrained on her psyche. She trusts no one and had hard hitting questions while interjecting, “don’t lie to me.” For most humans we’ll avoid the pain at all costs because to let our walls down would let you capture our flag; not on my watch.
I believe I opened her eyes and heart with our communications but she is not for me. So does one continue to swipe or shutdown? They both seem like losses to me. If I continue the routine, I become a non-player character in the game and if I shut down that shows how upset, hurt, and angry I am. I feel like taking my hands off the wheel and letting someone else drive.
I have to keep mentioning to myself that struggles reveal character and workouts that make you the sorest build strength. When I sold door to door we looked and begged for the no’s, because we knew 10 no’s equaled a yes. Balance comes with certainty and the law of averages is represented of that as opposed to faith. But having faith in the law of averages can be used beyond what is seen and reasoned to relieve the agony of uncertainty.
Instead pushing through let me glide.
