“We see in order to move; we move in order to see.” ~ William Gibson
WTF, morning again. What next? The third cup of coffee sits at my side next to a quart-sized red plastic tumbler from WalMart, which contains about one swallow of water. It’s hard to see that as abundance but at the moment it is. The fine feline in today’s opening photo is Violet. Violet came into the animal shelter with her head up and to the right, a solid immobile spasm that was determined to be from head trauma. Her eyes were closed as well. She came out of that immobility but there is now a dazed look in her eyes. She functions okay, but not with the usual grace of a cat. She is crabby with other cats, and it is amazing to see her instincts override her disability when she lashes out at her cage mates in the communal cage. That’s an interesting point for me, that her instincts override her disability. I relate to this girl on a soul level. I too am the receiver (we don’t say victim anymore, do we? The word lacks empowerment even when the victim does embody that quality) of head trauma. I wish people could understand. Sometimes it changes things in a permanent way. The brain has shifted in it’s functioning. The world is no longer the same for the victim. Dang! I used that friggin word again. Will I never learn the ways of the times? Move forward, it’s a new day, let’s put it all behind us. Well, ummm, I can’t put it behind me because it jumped on the bus one day and won’t go away. I know, I know, never say can’t. Oh, and by the way, the bus’s marqui displays the word “Further”. (The author giggles here, understandably. Oh man ya jest gotta laugh. I’ll show them folks who ain’t been smacked silly in a permanent way. If they can see is another story altogether. Showin’ don’t always begat seein’.)
“That ain’t me, that ain’t my face. It wasn’t even me when I was trying to be that face. I wasn’t even really me then; I was just being the way I looked, the way people wanted.” ~ Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
In the photo Violet seems to be gazing up longingly at some unseen . . . . . oh wait, I’d already moved on. My bad. But the truth is, you see, that I see what she sees. Ya oughtta see it, it’s really empowering, k?
I was just outside on the deck, sometimes gazing at the snow, but mostly hanging my head because of my trepidation in general. I’m not whining here, about my mental illness nor about my brain damage. I do have to live with it day to day however, like Violet. Usually I must do it in silence, partly because of the fear of stigmatization but mostly because of momentum. Dude it like all Newton’s Third Law of Motion and stuff. Move forward, it’s a new day, let’s put it all behind us. Been there done that, still here doin’ that. That’s the rub. Good grief. How’d I get here? Bet you think I don’t remember. But I do. I remember because I can’t forget. I don’t want ever to forget. I’m a tad slow on the uptake, and I sometimes lose the word that represents what I know for sure I want to say, but I am always right here doin’ what I do. That, my friends, is called acceptance.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.