An assimilation so incomplete
Sometimes it works. Sometimes not so much: April is always testing me
There are moments that have burned themselves onto my mind’s eye, memories that help me (do they help?) find my patterns, or maybe it’s that they help me understand how very much I am a mother earthly being.
My first April.
I’m not referring to my literal “first” or even close. But there’s an April in my past that I return to, a memory so vivid that it comes up as a reminder of what a trickster April can be.
I’m not exactly sure what year this was—I’d say around 2014. It was the first time that my dysfunctional autonomic vascular system attacked my hands in a remarkable way. My mom went with me to the doctor. I remember him saying, “I’ve never seen your hands like this.”
“Me neither. Yeah, I know. What’s happening?” We both knew. It’s progressing.
Back then, I thought maybe it was that my winter riding gloves weren’t insulated enough for me. So, I invested, got some more industrial strength ski gloves to replace the ones that are generally suitable for our Sacto winters climate, but not for me.
It took me years to learn the truth: no matter how many layers, what the material is made out of, nothing can protect me from what’s happening inside my body. 100%, the temps, climate, and weather are the main triggers for my flaring and the instigators of chilblains. Stress is just part of that—think about it, whatever energy is happening, there’s a stressor, a stressie.
Stress is just another word for energy flow. We are unified with our environment. The Mother is not a metaphor. It’s a knowing. We are cycling through our lives—turning with our planet, because we are in orbit, too.
What today reminds me about me is that there is a before, during, and after, all seeming like remnants of cause and effect. But it’s just me, seeking homeostasis.
On this day last week, I was doing it, performing and living as an author, meeting and greeting, finding myself able to do this thing that I wanted so badly. My enthusiasm was as much about me surprising myself as it was for selling out of my box of books.
Throughout the week, though, with the onslaught of chilblains, the flaring, it caught me.
A little off guard.
That’s the thing I’m trying to get at: maybe part of being able to keep it moving is that I have to forget just enough so that I don’t let the anxiety, the fear paralyze me, confine me indoors ALL THE TIME.
Before I was able to stay home for work, I had crippling anxiety, the kind that makes you cry and shake, every day on the drive to work.
I have no option not to face the pain. I don’t need to see my hands and feet to know. Yes, I’ve been here before and it will calm down. I will be able to concentrate again, to shove off the paranoia, often triggered when I’m flaring (what if some day I can’t get through this?).
I did a thing yesterday. A thing at a close friend’s house, a celebration in her backyard. Unlike my many hours in a public space last week, this time, though I was surrounded by wonderful, empathetic people that I feel super comfortable with, I did not so good.
I only made it an hour, but really, I was toast as soon as I left the house.
Nah, I was bad off for days. Ice packing regularly, suffering to that point where I need sedation, just not to be in my skin.
I’m remembering now, too, I got into an excruciating situation at the gym on Thursday. Didn’t last long there, either.
Now I realize: oh, it’s the lag. This is all a part of last week, where I surprised myself with how long I lasted.
I would do it all again. I will, in fact.
It’s all one thing. Just cycling. Orbiting. This week turns into next.
April caught me. May will, too, and all the months. Some days will offer me more freedom; others, I’ll be confined. But I know so much—I know I come through.
I also know that the person who was hosting yesterday is reading this blog and I want to tell her: I could feel you caring for me the whole time. I know you knew I was struggling. I just want you to know: I’m glad I went. I’m glad I can challenge myself and show up to celebrate life with you, even just a little bit. I’m grateful I get to meet your loved ones because it matters.
P.S. My hysteroscopy results are all good! No signs of any cancer or anything but menopause. I have an appointment with my doctor in May. Following up on the hormone therapy and working to find the right balance for me.
Want more of Eve’s writing and Paul Imagine’s drawings? You can get my book: Body in Script, available at many online retailers.
You can find it at my publisher’s bookstore, or other places, like Amazon. Or, chat with me here. If you’re local, come get one from me personally. I would love that! You can also find my book at Time Tested Books and at Flower Fist Market
