Riding Uphill

This morning, well, Saturday morning, (considering that it is currently ohhhhh 4:30 am on Sunday), my teacher Justicia gave an analogy in class that basically scared the everliving shit out of me. She was talking about riding her bike uphill. The story goes that a friend of hers had given her the advice to, when riding one's bike uphill, not focus on the peak of the hill but rather only a few bike lengths in front of your tires, or even your tires themselves.

Why did this eff me up in such a major way? Well, the last few weeks I've found myself in a place with which I am not very familiar or very comfortable. That place is, to put it bluntly, a shitty, shitty place. The deep, dark recesses of my pyche. Painful, unsure, uncomfortable, scary, depressed, sleep-deprived and angry. So, so angry. It feels like I've been twisted out of myself and can't seem to find the right way to put myself back together again, and that I may not even give a crap enough to.  This feels so, so unnatural which is causing me even more unease. This is not me. I am not myself.

Everything feels like a hill, a struggle. Every situation is stressful. Every conversation a blur. Every night is fitful, scary and maddeningly long. Nothing is calming. Yoga brings no solace, just stress (this is nearly as maddening as the long nights which follow). It's almost as though things have gone stagnant around me but my mind and soul and body need to go foward, but can't. They are chained in the moment and the moment offers nothing.

This hill is just feels simply too high. Too far, too long. I'm off the bike and trudging (crawling, dragging myself forward).

The burden of not knowing when this transplant will happen is taking it's toll on me in ways I did not anticipate. I'm in a constant state of stress about what to tell this person (myself?), what to arrange (what the hell can be arranged when I don't know anything!!!!), what comes next? What comes next? What comes next? Answering the question 'So, do you have a date? Do you know anything?' makes me want to scream. I mean that. A deep, from the bottom of my lungs, rip your guts out, scream. I hear it in my mind in the moment that I need to take before I answer. If I am terse about this in person, my apologies.

Calls made to MDA searching for information, even the information that there is no information yet, go unanswered.  I will have a thing or seven to say when I do get my ass down there.

The summit will be liberating, cleansing , a relief (progress! change! CURE) but the descent after is also terrifying thought. I only pray that my brakes are in order and my body strong enough to halt a free fall.

It is just so hard to keep your eyes down and focus on the moment in front of you, when the moment in front of you is the same as the moment before, just more uncertain. It feels like everything I touch anymore falls apart at the seams, including myself. Music, which gives me my only solace, turned stressful and unsure today as well. I can't shake this. It's like riding a rickshaw hauling the shell of myself into the Pyrenees (professional cycling fascinates me. In 2001, I saw a small portion of le Tour de France in a small town outside of Paris. It was one of those cherished memories kind of days).

My eyes are on the road a few feet in front but those few feet are giving no indication of ground covered.

When I can sleep, these are the sorts of nightmares that haunt me, make me toss myself awake only to stare, glossy-eyed, at a computer screen hoping to drift off again on the keyboard. What I wouldn't give for a night of uninterrupted, undrugged, honest sleep. My kingdom for some sleep. (Maybe this would solve the whole damn mess).

One date on a calendar may (may not, probably won't) take me out of this. A goal. Something to focus on other than focusing on having nothing to focus on.

I just don't know. Move me forward, change me, hollow me out. Please.