Here and Now (5/90)

There is a phenomenon best understood by athletes called muscle memory.

 When an active person repeatedly trains movement, often the same activity in an effort to     stimulate the mind's adaptation process, the outcome is to induce physiological changes which attain increased levels of accuracy through repetition. 

Wikipedia, Muscle Memory

 As a competitive cheerleader, I would practice the same routine twice a day for months. I would  learn all of  the tumbling passes, the stunts, the jumps, the motions, the dance moves and perfect them. And on the day of the competition I was told to just show up, that thinking would ruin the routine. I was told that my body would know what to do. And it did, it always did.

I wasn't here yesterday. My body was where it needed to be, but my mind was somewhere else completely.

There's a familiar pain that's crept up in my body. It's a pain that is sorely out of context in the life that I am  living now. It makes no sense here.

***
The year that I graduated from high school was a terrible year. Terrible. I'll share with you only the necessary details.

Just before I was supposed to start my freshman year at USF I was in a car accident. I was on the highway going 70 mph and it was raining. (I know how stupid that is now, but I was 17 and even more stupid than I am today) A truck fishtailed in front of me and to avoid hitting him I swerved and lost control of my car. The car spun 3 times in the middle of the highway before I  ended up hitting the guard rail. I was lucky, it could have been a lot worse. Nevertheless, the impact did a number on my body.

I saw a chiropractor and masseuse three times a week for the remainder of the year. My neck and back were constantly hurting and my ribs would slip out of place several times a week.

At the time I was also in a relationship that isolated, then broke me. I was unreachable and unrecognizable to my family and friends.

I began having migraines and stomach issues. I stopped being able to eat and I lost 20 pounds quickly. I had a wonderful doctor that was caring and concerned and was doing everything she could to help me. I saw her at least twice a month and was on a slew of different medications.

In the meantime, I had a life to live. I was working as a cashier at a supermarket. I often chose the opening shift so that I could work and have the rest of the day to myself. I'd wake up at six, be at the store at  seven and work until three.

It wasn't a hard job, it was one that I enjoyed. But, it was hard on my body. I was consumed by my pain. I was just trying to get through every day. Every hour, every minute. I was always watching the clock. Always counting down. I became very robotic as I relinquished my control to the unconscious processes that carried me through each day.

***
I was there yesterday. My mind bridged the pain I felt in my body to that terrible time in my life. That time when I was consumed, counting down, just trying to get through. I was quiet all day. I had conversations that I can't even remember now.

 I got a phone call from my niece last night.  She told me excitedly that she had just gotten her eyebrows waxed for the first time.  I called my Mom and found out that she hasn't been feeling well herself. I talked to a couple of friends who were just having bad Mondays.

It took me all day to realize that I was consumed. It took me all of this morning to realize that I didn't have to be. That was my then, this is my now.

***
The last thing I want to be is everything I was yesterday. I hope that each day I live as selfishly as I did yesterday that I'll wake up and feel as terrible as I did today for it. We all have stuff, lots of stuff, every day. And we will always have stuff, lots of stuff, every day. It is easy to be consumed and slip into the repetition that makes it easiest to just get through. It's also easy for us to miss all of the goodness and awfulness happening around us.

I woke up feeling no different this morning. That same pain was present in my body. But I had to make a choice today. It was a choice to interrupt the memory and live consciously.