Bluesy Doosey Hips Spinning ‘Round No More
By: Eunice Blakely
It’s insane and how I can barely walk anymore, all I want to do is go to the washroom at night and empty my bladder. I need to be careful of twisting my hip just the wrong way. It wasn’t even like I took a tumble while jogging one day, it was simply that it arrived. The pain set in, and came back sporadically to remind me that my body was aging and failing me. my nerves gave up on me the docs called it neuropathy. But without giving it a name I still knew it was going to be trouble. It was going to be a reminder that I can have sharp pain coursing through my thigh up and down my humorous at any point in time. It reminds me that I cannot go on a run, and I cannot play soccer anymore. It’s a gentle but harsh reminder that I cannot move as quick as I used to and for the most part I avoid my left ankle.
I toss and turn at night as sleep turns into a game of cat-and-mouse every time I turn over and Trigger that pain. I’m writing this at about 2:45 in the morning. In fact just the very Act of getting out of bed with a very stiff leg reminds me that sleep with something I used to love, I hobbled my way down the hall towards the small back room that I consider my creative chamber. It’s where I hammer out those action protagonist and Dylan’s. In this case the villain lives inside of him. One time I had my hero survive on a tiny jar of jam and protein bar. They were in a basement and could you get out due to the bad guys setting up camp in the main living room. I had my hero right some poetry. The flourishing and rounded letters reminding everyone that life is not black and white. The howling winds and creeping through the broken Garden window reminding to Hero that things were just Out Of Reach.
The emotional cacophony slid under the door and crawled its way to my right leg gripping on for dear life as I shook fun to smack the nostalgic Funk from my body. Here I was just a southern Edgar Allan Poe and all I was getting was a raven pecking up my fake hip. Croak that horrible black vile creature once again never more. Nevermore shall I spin and dance on the Dance Floor to the bluesy jams. Nevermore will I swing that act until the woodpile grows for my small Enclave of family. Nevermore will I climb down back Twisted pathway, for swings my stick through the brambles to find the juiciest raspberries that the animals could never reach. Nevermore shall I sleep all the Way through the night.
There’s no way that I can just toss aside my feelings, I have a great deal of grace, I totally understand that prayer does nothing. I am aware that my sins need no absolving to remove the pain of my hip. The pain of my hips did not come from the rocking of my hips. As a matter of fact that probably would have been something to Stave off this dreaded neuropathy. But I certainly recognize internally of course that my Blues guides me for what I need to do. There’s no circumventing it, there’s no quick shortcut if I am to make my way to the end of this. This is not a diet fad, this is my life, this is my pain, this is my burden that I carried with me each and every morning at the twilight’s waking hour. At the moment when twilight was created. I have used this for my writing. My stories has been enriched as a results of my pain. My tears Are embedded into the tears of my Protagonist.
I suck the cool air past my moist lips. it’s drawn in a slow rhythmic pattern. Cooling my lips, then warming my lips cooling my list, then warming my lips. This mantra allows me remove over this morning. the rhythmic beat is a drum that sounds my Awakening. That Rally’s every muscle fiber in my body like the army they are. I am the general now, I will prevail. I hold my breath for just a short moment, and then exhale with my diaphragm slowly, painfully slowly, until I’ve emptied every lobe of my lungs. There is no way around it I take another deep breath. I review this morning like an old 3 millimeter Celluloid reel. This movie flickers until I’m almost in the seizure. I will sit here as a child watching my adult life. my memories zip past the backs of my eyelids as I slowly exhale. I have accomplished things, I am an exciting person, I want to be that person I think at that child who watches the adult line.
This watching as a child of the adult life has clarity, and focus. it is always easier to gain an insightfulness into who we might become, and in my case who I became. This past and present fusion causes momentary diassociations and allows me to move forward through my day. I used to be terrified of the deep down and dark feelings. But now I open my arms and welcome them. I cherish them, nay I trigger them. As each breath warms me up inside I stop shivering. my right leg, which I dragged all the way to my creative space, soaked up the cold mist off the floor. Did you use the end to me crawled into my flash and then enveloped my bones.
All those old thoughts and Lamentations have done nothing for the pledge elations on my back. That is long gone I have given up on that there is no way that they can hold onto me tight with their grip. Those long fingers end tentacles of fear has been shed I am finished with that passed. I am ready to move forward, and completely bored with the film that is playing out across my eyeballs. The director sucks. or maybe it’s that I have reviewed this one too many times, and the Creative Energy juices Twist N turns have all been lost on me. Like after you have read that comic book over and over, with the pages warm soft in your hands there is nothing left him dissipate.
This stories structure tired. This journey is done. the cat has been saved, the villain has won, and the protagonist gave up. These events have no more connection the past. there simply is pain. I have worked hard and slowly drip each and every lesson that I could possibly extract from those old events, I have gone down many Pathways Warren with roots and brambles to trap me, only to turn around and pay the new pathway forward. No one along those routes words there to judge me. Only I can look back in my old memories, and interactions with humans and decide whether what I have completed considered finished. In the case it is not, I have looked forward and relished in those moments of blithely choosing A New Path. However in this case my poor hip must travel on the road that has been trodded.
Somehow my leg does feel better, I look around and realize that the room is no more bitter cold, my book is mysteriously finished, this Hero has one. But what is the twist I wonder, it must be that this light has been synthesized with the past in some way shape or form, and the light has been flipped back on allowing me to see that my comfortable walk back into bed means that the sunlight from the morning will keep through the blinds once more for an eternity. There are no more paths to create, and no more interactions to strategize over. Many new right day lie ahead. It seems like we are born all over again just like the ancient deities expound on. no matter what you do today it is the Here and Now that will have the most impact on you. I realize now that my here and now has been fused with my past and I have moved on for an eternity to a better place.
I only wonder if those I left behind have any sense or semblance of my final journey. I wish To each of those that I have interacted with In the past, that they to understand where I have moved on. My story has reached an end.