My Life in the Slow Lane

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt the urge to yawn. I stretched my arms like a small child does when they are totally overtaken by the yawn, letting it ripple through my body. The spasm hit while my right arm was stretched in front of me, slightly twisted to the left. The muscle connecting my chest to my underarm contracted so tightly it felt like stone. I sat up, took of my shirt, and brought my left hand up to try to work the knot out when the second spasm hit, this time in the same place on the other side of my body. I fell to the bed, quivering, totally at a loss as what to do. I couldn’t call out, I couldn’t use my hands to work the phone to call anyone because they were so contorted with the barrage of spasms the swept over my body like ripples in an eddy pool. The pain was worse than anything I’ve ever experienced as every muscle in my body—from my toes, to my knees, to my butt, to my stomach, to my elbows, to my hands, to my neck—contracted and loosened like an invisible power source rippled through me with thousands of volts.

Then, suddenly, everything stopped.

My muscles loosened. I lay in bed, naked, sweaty and panting, and prayed a prayer of thanks for the sweet relief of feeling numb all over. I called Ben. He came up, calmed me down, reassured me that it would all be ok, and left me to sleep.

Then it happened again. This time, not as strong, but it lasted for at least ten minutes, in slow, steady waves, leaving me shivering. There was nothing I could do because I couldn’t manipulate my hands to massage myself, and even if I could, I wouldn’t have known where to start. Slowly, as Ben talked me out the mounting panic that was beginning to surface, I relaxed enough for the spasms to subside, and eventually I fell asleep.

This morning, I woke to feeling so comprehensively achey. I haven’t felt this kind of sensation—the weak muscles, the aches from muscles pulverised by the spasms, the occasional aftershocks—for many years. The first five hours of my day were spent lying in bed, trying to get comfortable, while everything hurt.

As I lay half asleep, it occurred to me that the whole episode could be seen as a cleansing of sorts. For the last few weeks I’ve been sick with a sinus infection and a cough, I’ve been stressed out working two jobs and barely making ends meet, one of the jobs’ final report is due this week, and I have a new semester starting next week. Today, as I try to remain as sedentary as possible in the wake of the weird events last night, I saw that perhaps this is the new leaf that everyone talks about?

Could it be, perhaps, that the purgatory last night was the culmination of four months’ worth of stress, depression and overwork catching up with me? It hurt like hell, but I got it out of my system. Tomorrow, when I wake and go to work in the morning, I will fresh and new, ready to fight the world and keep going. I’ll be so well rested tomorrow, simply by virtue of being so comprehensively exhausted today.

After the purge I feel very tired and achey, but I know that in a few days, by the time next week comes around, I’ll feel refreshed and ready to tackle the new semester and the new job with a smile.

Pieces of us die everyday
As though our flesh were hell
Such injustice, as children we are told
That from God we fell.

Andrew told me that when he’s feeling down or overwhelmed, he looks up videos on youtube.  I was skeptical, to be honest, that it would help me with coping with my predicament, but wouldn’t you know it, I now stand corrected.  Tonight I found my favourite Jewel song, Amen, from her first (and in my opinion, best) album, Pieces of You.

Where are my angels?
Where’s my golden one?
Where’s my hope
now that my heroes have gone?

This song reminds me of my troubled teenage years, particularly 2001, in which I had my first disastrous flirtation with depression, self-harm and suicidal tendencies.  This song was a staple in my musical diet.  At the time, I was coping with the loss of my independence, health, and the souring of an intense friendship marred by unrequited love.  Or, to be more accurate, I was not coping.

Some are being beaten
Some are being born.
And some can’t tell the difference anymore

Today, the song speaks to me in a similar way; it speaks to be about profound pain and loss, and the bewildered uncertainty that comes with that.  The excerpts above are particularly poignant this evening with everything that is happening.  Yet, at the same time, I realise that this time, I am coping with this tragedy whereas I wouldn’t have as a 17 year old, and that is an exciting feeling.  We all know that through our lives we grow and change, but often, at least in my case, we don’t see it.  Tonight, listening to this hauntingly beautiful song, I saw the change in myself.  I am still devastated by what happened between J and I, don’t get me wrong, but tonight I have seen that in 10 years I have grown enormously in the way I deal with emotional turmoil.

The full video and lyrics are below; I hope you enjoy the beauty of Jewel’s words and voice as much as I do.

“Amen”

Jewel

You’re mothers’ child
but night lays you down
hair aflame, wile look in your eye
Naked belly to the ground

A forest fire
Nibbles at your veins
Crawls up your arm
runs away with your mind
And burns dry thoughts like leaves

Amen

Eyes stare up
but something’s in the way
In the Bible only angels have wings
And the rest must wait to be saved

A dry tongue
Screams at the sky
But the wind just breathes words in
As a strange bird tries to fly

Amen

Pieces of us die everyday
As though our flesh were hell
Such injustice, as children we are told
That from God we fell.

Where are my angels?
Where’s my golden one?
Where’s my hope
now that my heroes have gone?

Some are being beaten
Some are being born.
And some can’t tell the difference anymore

Amen
Hallelujah

Lyrics from www.azlyrics.com.