This morning, on crutches, I went to see my chiropractor and my massage therapist. (It’s a two-for-one deal.) And whereas it took all the energy I had, I’m glad I went, since they focused on my shoulder that’s been bothering me for over a month now. Plus, my chiropractor adjusted my hips and back, which he said were out of whack because my right side has been compensating for my left side, which makes sense, we both agreed, since I jacked up my left knee this last weekend and haven’t been able to walk on two legs since.

Just call me Hop-along Cassidy.

This is always a challenge for me, taking care of one part of me when another part of me isn’t working. I’m such an all-or-nothing person that I either want to be “all engines go” or give up completely. Like, if my leg doesn’t work, then screw my shoulder, my sinuses, and the dry skin on my elbow. Perhaps this is a childish inclination. I just get so overwhelmed, paralyzed. Of course, it’s not logical to stop attending to every little problem simply because a bigger one comes along, so, despite my limited mobility, I’m trying to continue initiating acts of self-care.

For example, I saw my chiropractor and my massage therapist today, and I’m still brushing my teeth twice a day.

After my appointment was over, I got a call about scheduling my MRI. And whereas I was hoping it would be this week, it’s going to be next week on Monday. My mom said she had to wait a full two weeks for her MRI when she was first diagnosed with cancer, so I guess six days isn’t that long.

This afternoon I started reading a book about time. So far, it’s mostly about one’s personal and subjective experience of time, which our brains keep track of based on MOTION and CHANGE. Along these lines, research shows that time seems to fly by when we’re having a good time because we’re so focused on what we’re doing (or whom we’re doing) that our brains AREN’T keeping track of what’s moving and changing outside of our field of focus. The idea is that if we don’t perceive many things or events as having happened, we feel like not much time has passed. Conversely, the book says, time seems to drag on when we’re in pain or a miserable location (like a prison cell or the Department of Motor Vehicles) because, since they have nothing better to do, our brains are hyper-focused on every little movement and change that’s happening in and around us. We think, He stood up, I scratched my nose, she moved her finger. Oh my god! I’ve been here FOREVER.

When it’s only been six seconds.

After reading for a while, I took a nap. And whereas I wanted it to last three hours, it only lasted one. (Today, class, we’re going to learn about lowering your expectations.) Anyway, it’s weird how your body does that, acts absolutely exhausted, tells you it could sleep for days, but then won’t even take a decent nap when given the chance. What the hell? Ugh. I wish I could sleep until next week. Actually, I wish I could sleep until my body heals and I feel like a normal human being again. Whatever normal is. Last night on social media I saw a picture of me at the Little Theater, and I didn’t even recognize myself at first. What with the crutches and all. Plus, I WAS wearing an elf costume. But my point is, I thought, WHEN did this become my life?!

Whatever. This is my life–tired, in pain, on crutches. At least part of my life anyway. At least for now. And whereas I don’t want to IGNORE my problems, I also don’t want to DWELL on them. Rather, I want to read a book, go to the Little Theater–um–give myself ANYTHING POSITIVE to focus on, so that my personal unpleasantries won’t seem to drag on in my subjective reality any longer than they actually drag on in my objective reality. This, I think, is the power of our minds and our attention, that we can take an experience and stretch it out like a piece of taffy (That took FOREVER) or compress it down like–what’s a good analogy?–a nutcracker (There, that was quick and relatively painless).