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Gofa

Show and Tell 2 of Many

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Number two

Thanks Dither, your comment is much appreciated.

Im here remembering again.

The piece I will get to was written in hospital 5 or so years ago after falling or actually stepping off a motorised skate board at say 30 to 40 kph. I hyper extended both knees split my tibia and basically crashed head over heels a fair few times. I was wearing full motor cross body armour helmet wrist knee elbow supports or lets face I would been dead

In my defence I've surfed and skate boarded all my life and I was having a whole lot of fun till I clipped a broken fence post and pitched onto the road from the foot path.

Its odd to reread this and see the consequences flowing out from the injuries. Not physical consequences so much, although i still limp and my right knee has not fully healed some 5 years later. But it is a mind set that recognises time is short. Pretending I'm like other people with just a few odd bits I should best ignore is no longer seen as a good strategy

Its odd to look back seeing cause and consequence realigning my understanding of me. Only to then do my best to forget, set aside minimise, the memory. As odd things occurs I tend to bin them somewhere inside me for later review like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that has no current colour attributes that relate to the part of the picture I'm working on now so its put side for later.
Memo to self its could well be later now.

That i write stuff here in open review has me accept the implications of the information trapped in memory being left unprocessed disconnected and its impact marginalised.

Most of my spiritual events have been treated this way. Externalised least the bad apple corrupt the barrel. Now i find that most of my barrel is taken up with repressed events and at this righteous core is my attempt to be normal so as to get along with others, to fit in, not stand out, deny there is anything strange about me at all.

It scares me how much and how many are these events in my life. Like some alcoholic with a closet full of empty bottles, my back to the door trying to get it closed this one last time, while saying "no you have me confused I don't drink"

There is or must be a point where I accept all this as real and redefine my life accordingly. This has at best been a hobby I have shared with very few others and never in its fullness. Now i feel it is my life and needs the centre stage and time/resource given to it, to be all that it can.

That said here is my memo to self as written in hospital as i awoke and then typing on my ipad trying to grasp the horror of where I have ended up. I believed I had brain damage rather than the heavy pain meds as taken.

So i started writing as follows

Looking into the abyss

The tears, the separation, the aloneness

Hard to find space in print to capture the physical and spiritual bankruptcy that flows up from every mental culvert beneath my feet and just kept rising as the hours pass and I continued to lie in this hospital bed. It's not my pain or injuries which are severe it's that I don't feel any one any more

I remember dimly the feelings of others inside me. Wife children friends even my dog they connect to me at all times, more than this are the helpers the background hum of all existence that feeling of more and many. They connect within me too but no more. Oh God I am forsaken.

Why is this the way it is now ?
A focus to what is important?
The continuity of life shown in its interplay?
You never know what you have till it's gone?

Which ever way you slice and dice, it is a visceral understanding of "gone" and there is no response other than tears and grieving. I do this in the shower crying for two hours as it seems the best place to be alone and accept that i am brain damaged. Its not like they are going to run out of hot water. The loss is all consuming and after another day passes you get resigned.

How do you use this understanding to focus on the important as in its spot light all is obvious, but how quickly this dims from clarity to being conjecture.

It's all about realising how little is inside me and how much was outside. Adding to this the certain knowledge here and now the outside has gone as though it was never there. As an empath I am dressed up within my relationships with others. They form part of me, are me, to a greater extent. But they're now gone, a simple dismissal so profound as to leave no room for doubt or review. I have spend the major part of my life internally bitching about this but finally getting comfortable with this outside, seeing its substance, value and return as a worthy part of life the universe and all that is important.

Now it's gone

Reflecting here this morning lying in a hospital bed, the accident to my brain or the pain medication has shut down any mental interplay and it's suddenly quiet and you are totally alone. A very visceral loss without physical allegory which intensifies the loss as it appears that it was never there. Like waking up from a good dream to find yourself no where you recognise. No loose ends to follow, just you live now in this house that you dully remember had more rooms once but when you count the doorways there are none spare to support the feeling there was more rooms, more light, more substance. But there was more you scream within, there really was, but I now only see some gaps or holes that could hint, there was something else than the stark pieces that have shrunk to surround me now.

In desperation I stop taking the pain meds.

2 days later I wake up to find my old home of many rooms comfortably surrounding me again. I run around inside my mind like a kid on a sugar high. The relief, the extra rooms were here all the time. Iím not brain damaged. Profoundly I see my mind as bigger than I used to remember. I can spiritually see and feel others again. My family and friends, all those in the ward I can touch and perceive. Oh God I am not forsaken.

In the clearest of terms you never know what you've got till its gone. When you get it back you see it with fresh eyes and it is not easy to take it for granted

The empathic relationships I carry in real time within me are the substance of who I am. Without them not much is left to look at. I have often cried out about the slings and arrows of empathy but not so much now. My empathic self is the best of me and worthy of protection and nurture. No more kicking it to the corner as a source of pain. This is the well spring of my soul not some confusing curse with no answers to carry through life.

It's me and mine. Good and bad yet something I know now to cherish

As an appendix, there are people i need to go see. Places to go things to do. Kind of scary but that "trust in the process of being me" I hope it works cause Im not seeing a plan B

So returning to the present Lets face it time has gone by. Little serious time and attention has be given here and the set and forget strategy is pretty much standard

Maybe rereading here I should self accept a little more seriously and its time I make the effort towards remembering a bit better

I am that I am Yes the name of God but also self acceptance and what about know thy self another oldie and a goodie but having looked deeply into this mirror now what ?

Maybe I can write my way out of this. Im a Chartered Accountant. Maybe I can work this out with a pencil

Too funny and honestly Im too old for a mid life crysis

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  1. dither's Avatar
    Keep writing Gofa, another chapter in your memoirs perhaps?

    You're never too old, or too young, for a crisis, and it's crap isn't it.
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