Two weeks ago I hurried and mustered enough patience to reteach an approach to tying shoes with my autistic 10 year old son. He frustrates immediately and shuts down. I use the minimal time constrained emotional resources within me to make this a successful moment. His shoes get tied. I tell him I love him. He catches the bus. I run to my car and sit in traffic for two hours and make it to work.
One month ago, I sat in myself, the crippling anxiety anticipating my job justification brief. The sun was setting and we were leaving the beach. My boyfriend looks at me, his expression, softened eyes, patience understanding the carousel of my thoughts. He can hear the merry go round chiming again. He wipes the salty tear from my cheek. He listens to my sermons with me. He holds my hand.
One week ago, I crushed my wrists on the garage floor after the bench I jumped upon skirted away from me. Techno is blaring in my ears. A rush of agony clenched down and stabbed my tailbone my wrists and when I moved my pelvis I knew, “you are not ok.” He came to me, helped me up and walked me in the house where my little four year old was hopping around happily. I couldn’t stand. My body took over. This moment was truly remarkable for someone like me who lives so deeply in their mind. A new driver suited up, we got this, and took all of the controls into effect. The pain left me as I lay on the couch for a moment. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t stay awake. My heart wasn’t racing it was stammering like a 70s automobile trying to start up. When my boyfriend got me up to get me moving everything went black. There was no pain but there was a movie. There was peace. It really was somewhere else separated from this painful body of mine. I woke to him calling my name and then the pain reclaiming. I saw my little boy and we rushed to get to the hospital. My body kept trying to put me to sleep but my man kept saying breathe angela breathe.
Today, it took me four attempts to get out of bed because of the pain, desperation, helplessness. I’ve had two emotional break downs trying to get a sports bra on and getting stuck churning my broken wrists naked and alone. Trying to do the normal first five minutes of my day unsuccessfully. See, it’s time. This time continuously spent or unspent. My twenty minutes before can take me all day now. But no, I don’t have any inspirational insight right now about appreciating your capabilities or overcoming your limitations.
Now, my legs are warm from the sun outside and poorly shaved. Now, I’m in no hurry. Now, I’m going to think a little more about time.