peevish mama

I think I’ve finally done it. I think I’m finally all out of words. I’m off my crutches and the process of climbing out of my head and back into my enfeebled body has left me tongue tied. Like a kid who used up his alloted amount of tokens within the first twenty minutes at Chucky E. Cheese, I feel slightly bereft, slightly sheepish after my greedy, glutinous spew. During my six weeks on crutches, this blog was my lifeline – it was the only thing I could DO, produce, create.

I am surprised to find myself with absolutely nothing. Nothing. Left. To. Say.

When my world shrunk down to my house, my car and anywhere I could painstakingly get to on my crutches, my mind started racing. I felt chafed by my confinement and the words in my head were my only way to run. Now I can go anywhere and I have circled the wagons tight. I have redrawn my circumference within a few feet of my knee. I focus on watching my step, smoothing out my gait, lifting my way to a normal looking quadricep, taking this knee of mine across the finish line. Also in this little circle are my family and the small stuff of life that needs my attention. The angst, the anxiousness, the twitching antenae, the mental chatter, the monkey mind that drive this blog and usually drive me, seem to have quieted. Peculiar.

Nothing about this experience has been as expected. I thought I would go wild when I got off my crutches. I thought I would be euphoric and bristling with energy. But I find myself strangely quiet. Relieved. Cautious. Sated by the simple blessing of being on my own two feet.