If you were to ask me the things that I found most distressing about my life, my first and foremost answer would be the fact that I am female. There are a lot of strong women out there – women who know how to use their female-ness to their advantage. I am not one of them. I will never have children. I will probably never have a long-term relationship. Everything about me and my life choices is antithetical to my biology, and frankly, the biology is in the way. If a sex change wasn’t both extremely expensive and socially challenging, I’d have done it long ago. Because the only thing I’ve gotten from this whole female gig is a stupidly high tolerance for pain – and really, that is actually more trouble than it is worth.
I joke about my karmic unbalance – the fact that it is not unusual for me to face more problems in both quantity and severity in a month than most people face in a year. And I have gotten used to that. True, I have periods of stability – times where I forget how things can go – and then I get reminded. How about surgery the week that you are finishing your master’s thesis, a week after the worst flu in two years, and three weeks after a debilitating three day episode of abdominal pain? Oh, and let’s make sure you remember that you don’t get paid for any of those days you took off, and that your insurance is both expensive and minimal and that you will undoubtedly be spending the next two years paying this all off. Remember that. Also remember that there are rats in your attic, that you lit your hand on fire two weeks ago – in part because it is slowly going numb, and that you have both hives and a now-chronic migraine. Oh, and you haven’t had a decent workout in over a week. I’m going to be late on almost all of my bills next month – I did not plan for both a vacation – the first real “you do not have to think about work/school” vacation in 5 years – and surgery to happen at the same time.
I’m having this dual response to everything that is going on right now. Part of me is all “you can do it – it will all be ok.” And the other part of me is all “die. just give up and die.” I’m trying to ignore that second part right now, but every day that I don’t exercise – every day I don’t get my endorphins, it gets a little louder – a little more insistent.
I should be working on my thesis tonight. I’d planned on finishing my maps. But being female caught up with me today and instead I’m doped up on vicodin and booze, and even then I can still feel the cramps and the aches. I can’t walk in a straight line, but I can sit here in pain. Good times.
Today I was able to observe a couple of apartment raids with the police department of the city where I work. There were no doors getting bashed in or any of the like. But a couple of folks who had violated their probation got picked up, along with a few warrants. It was an interesting situation. Everyone in the briefing room assumed that I was the weak link, and several times I reminded to stay out of the way. I did not explain my past. I did not tell them that I have years of experience in physical confrontation – both armed and unarmed. I did not say that, the mood I was in, anyone who wanted to start something with me was most likely unprepared for what they would get in return. I just nodded and agreed to stay out of the way. And I didn’t get nervous. I could feel the anxiety bleeding off of the others in the group. I could smell their adrenaline. But when we were actually on site, I felt like I was in my own neighborhood. I felt the kind of calm that I used to feel when I was squaring off against an opponent that I knew was far stronger, much faster, and way more skilled than I. The kind of calm that comes when you give up the fight for status and for face and for pride and for your sense of right and succumb to the fight for survival. It has been so long that I’d forgotten what it was like. But it was strange – all the anxiety around my presence in the briefing room disappeared when I was on site.
I will be doing this again – more regularly and with a higher level of participation. My role is not to catch “bad guys”. My role is to help make these apartments safer and to encourage residents to take a more active role in improving their living conditions. I believe this is something worth doing.
I’m not going to work on my thesis tonight, and the loss of this time will hurt me. I absolutely must have a completed draft by this Sunday. If I don’t, I’ll have to postpone my graduation until this summer. My trip abroad will be tainted, my stress level will not decrease, I will not be able to relax. I have not relaxed – really relaxed where I don’t have to think about what I am going to do the next day and how I’m going to fit it all in and damn if that deadline isn’t rushing at me faster than I can fathom and what about all that work that I am postponing that is going to catch up to me and brand me a failure – in so long that I have a hard time remembering. It has been years.
The last two weeks have been brutal. The next two will be even worse. I’m already at the point where I don’t feel that this kind of life is worth living. If it wasn’t a temporary situation, I’d give up. When it gets worse, it is going to be difficult to remember that this is all short-term – that soon things will be different. I’m going to try, but this here is an apology for when I fail. Because I will fail. Because there is that part where karma is still trying to teach me a lesson and it will wait until I am at my weakest before delivering the killing blow.
That lesson better be worth it. I’m thinking the secret to world peace or the secret of the universe or something equivalent. Cause otherwise I’m going to be a might bit irritated.
I spend so much time sitting behind a computer either studying or working – so removed from the reality of the world and the people around me – that I forget what it means to be human. I feel like a search engine with a corporeal body. I feel like a machine – and I’m sick of it. Whatever I do next will have to compensate for that – because I don’t think I can take much more of it. All work and no play…
SecondHand Saint 