Ship on fire

Beginning this project, I started reading other people’s blogs specifically on sobriety and the body. I had a visceral reaction when a white dude wrote an article on how humans live “bubble-wrapped” lives and have a low threshold for pain/discomfort. I was reminded by all the people in my life who have forced themselves to grind to survive under capitalism, starved their body to fit an unattainable image of perfection and jeopardized their mental health just to meet basic human expectations. I thought about how much energy I would need to exert to verbally bring this dude to his knees but decided he would never be worth it. The point: I’ve never taken the time or had the wherewithal to take care of my body. 
I’ve had two surgeries in less than 24 hours, so this is the most time I’ve ever taken to rest in my 20s. Even with all the physical trauma my body has been through, it’s felt shameful to ask for help. My partner had to help me off the floor and I apologized to her. I apologized to her and contemplated laying on the floor until I had the strength to get up. While I don’t think asking for helpful is as difficult for everyone, I do know a lot of people who will respond with “I’m fine” instead of responding with the truth. 
Alcohol always helped me get myself to “I’m fine.” It was a lot easier to drink than it was to listen to what my body needed. If I felt tired, draining or exhausted, but still felt I needed to be social, drinking was an easy way to combat both pains. After I was assaulted, very dear people in my life asked if I needed help. I did need help, I needed a lot of help. I had been physically humiliated and it seemed daunting to be emotionally vulnerable. I told people “I was fine” and continued to drink/ do whatever I needed to maintain “I’m fine.” I think everyone knew I was lying to myself and to them but I was too delicate and too unpredictable to be approached. Like a cat, hiding underneath the bed, waiting to claw your eyes out. 
Lying here, knowing I’m not going to be able to get up without help, it crossed my mind I owed my body an apologize. Instead of torturing you and punishing you, I should have wrapped you in some bubble wrap and put you to sleep. Sweet dreams, you tiny tired thing. 

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