"Sooner or later all the people and the places that we loved are finished, and the only way to keep them safe is art. That's what art's for. It
rescues everything from time."
-Alan Moore Jerusalem
About A week after surgery
This time, I was not so lucky.
This was taken shortly after surgery. I was sore and bruised. I couldn't dress myself, couldn't bathe myself, couldn't do my hair. Everything was a challenge. I went back to work less than a full week after surgery. Having taken off six weeks last year, I was afraid of depleting my sick days for fear that something would go wrong with me, or my family and I would be without.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I a fiercely independent. I hate asking for help. I was told a lot growing up that I couldn't do things. Wasn't smart enough to do things, pretty enough to do things...couldn't do things because I was a girl. It's because of this that I have a fierce determination to just do stuff myself. I had to let that go. I had to let go of my ego and it drove me nuts. I had to make myself vulnerable, both physically and psychologically.
I had to ask...for help.
My husband has been fantastic. These past few years have certainly fulfilled the "For better or for worse" parts of our wedding vows. There have been a lot of struggles. Struggles with health, of ourselves and our parents. Struggles with losses of dear friends, former students, and family pets. The realization that we are getting older and so are all of those around us. The natural passage of time...catching up with us. Things became a bit too real. I am reminded of the song, "All at Once" by the Airborne Toxic Event, "We grow old all at once, and it comes like a punch...in the gut, in the back, in the face." And, indeed it does. I've felt like my life since 2013 has been a series of unfortunate events. I try not to dwell on it too much, however, because I feel a sense of guilt about it. I feel guilty because I have friends who have been through so much worse than me. I still have my husband, my parents, my brother. I have this strange emotional mix of sadness, frustration, anger, and guilt. I am a bag of mixed, confused emotions.
The main difficulty in the recovery of this surgery was that for weeks...I didn't have my art. I couldn't do the one thing that made me feel better. But finally, after six weeks or so...I was able to cheat a bit and get out and take some pictures.
I ventured to the local cemetery, a walk to get myself out of the house. Still in my sling. Holding my camera in my left hand and reaching far enough to push the button, I was able to capture a few images. Some balm for my soul.
|I have a morbid fascination with this statue, well all cemetery statues for that matter.|
14 Weeks Out