Lately, my heart cries its way down my left arm, tears full of nickel and nettle. A quick ride on a search engine tells me the right words are “sudden numbness”, but I know a dripping-sad when I am one.
Lately, my yawns stop short of finishing and I bite at the air like a baby dinosaur, a baby that’s been hungry too long and doesn’t know why, a baby that reaches for the instincts of a feeding. A quick call to an expert tells me the right words are “nervous system dysregulation”, which seems like real fancy talk for saying the same thing.
I know an abandoned dinosaur when I am one.
I spent most of this long weekend in bed, angry, and I think angry is a hard look for this body to pull off anymore. The shingles and the flooring just don’t hold like they used to, and I’m falling into pieces of what taste like coins.
If I had a nickel for every time I should have given up hope in normal people doing the right and brave thing, I’d have enough money to repair this old house of love and bone and dinosaur.
I am disappointed in humans I have to see every day, and that is not an easy way to live, and maybe that is why I bite at the air and call it an unfinished yawn. How dare oxygen sustain this unkindness, this hypocrisy, this violence. No wonder I chomp and chomp, small determined teeth versus everything.
I have been so vague for so long that I don’t even know where to start, but I do know the starting is inevitable.
Last night I told my roommate, “I have not spoken to my best friend since November, but if I called her right now and gave her even a summary of what was happening, she would be here.” An hour later, she texted, unprompted. A quick check-in with the universe would call this a miracle or coincidence, but I know love.
I know love, I know love, I know love, and I trust it.
In the kitchen with my roommate, feeling returns to my arm when he says he is hungry and would like to split a sandwich with me. On the phone with a friend, in conversation about flamethrowers of all things, I yawn deep and full. That was almost a week ago and I still fantasize about that sweet gulp of air. I write a blog post and, before it has even ten likes, my email and my phone and every social media platform is ringing, full of open hands, happy to catch my tears and invest them back into love.
There are things beyond the reach of search engines and experts. There are feelings beyond the strain I am stuck in now.
I still know this.
I’m just less certain.