Starfish...

Hiding out in the kitchen tonight, honing my new skill of buying things and researching whether or not it was a good idea after the fact. After reading a pajillion negative reviews, I decided the purchase I made today is ok for what I intend to use it for (i.e. an alternative to the laptop and consequent typing noises and bright screen that keeps my guy up at night). I have this idea in my head that a handheld device will be less electromagnetically invasive too, but that's probably just anecdotal speculation.

Littles screamed tonight and I whipped my head around only to see Jemma walking away from her. I don't know what Jemma did, but frankly, I'm a little sick of her shit lately. She's snarly and barky and just generally irritable. I grabbed her by her thick neck fur and I think in the process, I might have broken my finger or dislocated it or pinched a nerve or something. I didn't grab her all that hard even (her fur is really thick). I told her that I was sick of her growling all the time and enough is enough. She made a gesture to snap at me, so I had to correct that too, all the while worrying if something is up beyond the whole, "I hate that they got a third dog" thing. I hope she doesn't become one of those unbearably snappy old dogs.

After a little break, Jemma and I snuggled for a bit and I took her for a walk and while we were walking, I realized I don't trust her nearly as much as I used to and I don't listen to her either. What I mean is, Littles is a screamer and they were beside the food and it's likely Jemma was correcting her for going near the food, which is ok. I forget sometimes that Jemma is a really, really good dog. She does deserve a little leeway and yeah, she is barky but I really don't play with her enough lately. She needs attention, affection and one on one playtime. Of all the dogs in this house, she is the one who really needs one on one time the most and at the same time, she's so easy that it's easy to forget her.

Poor doggy.

On my way down the driveway, I wiped out something brutal. I don't know how I went down but I ended up slamming my knee on the ice and spinning into a starfish on the ground. By the time I stopped moving, I was lying on the ground in the opposite direction I was headed. I just lay there for a while, savoring the pain (sarcasm) and taking a breather. Jemma had run back to the house. I don't know what she would have done if I didn't get up.

I mustered up the gumbies to stand up and we went on our slippy slidy walk anyway. As I walked through the pain, I realized that I think I was a self-harmer too, except instead of cutting or whatever, I threw my body around. As long as I can remember, it was a dream of mine to get a black eye. It sounds absolutely absurd to say it out loud, but it's true. And when I finally got one, I think it was in grade eleven, after getting elbowed in the face when I tried to take down a girl twice my size in a rugby game, it was brutally painful (I think I even chipped my zygomatic bone) but I was so, so proud of my amazingly black eye. I mean, this was the black eye to end all black eyes. Instant shiner and it stayed shut for days.

That's apparently what it takes for me to not feel like such a failure...?

Anyway, between rugby, anorexia and the endless throwing around of my body that went with snowboarding, I guess it felt empowering. If I didn't have any power in the world, I had the power to do these insane things to myself. And not only that, but I magically healed from them too.

I think that's the self-harmy part, but instead of doing it to relieve the pain, I think I did it to heal it. You know what I mean? These were wounds, amazingly catastrophic wounds sometimes, and after a little while, they were gone and I was stronger for it. You could see the healing happening. You could feel it. And it was inevitable.

I think the turning point was when I got my concussion. Suddenly, there were permanent repercussions. Suddenly, I'd gone so extreme that I could not fully heal from it. Suddenly, my body had limits and those limits were very clear.

I think that, mixed with the graves' disease, which pointed out even more clearly how vulnerable I am, made me lose a lot of power in my life. I think it's part of the reason I get so hurt so easily now. I don't have this outlet that shows me that I'm strong. I just don't have that at all anymore.

It's amazing too that when my knee hit that ice, the thought that hit me instantly was that my snowboarding season was in jeopardy. It's amazing that after all this time, that's still who I think I am at the core of my person. I remember after snowboarding in early 2001, before I went out west, I'd have to ice my knees. After the drive home from the hill, they'd be swollen and red and felt like there was sand in the joint. My knees were so abused. Even kneeling in the snow one time would cause them to swell up. They just couldn't handle anything anymore.

In 2002, my knees hurt all the time. I remember going to school in the fall and walking from my car to school was so uncomfortable. Especially the left one, which is the one I press down on the hardest to take off when I jump on my snowboard.

So there I am, lying on the driveway and my knee has that same sort of pain as it used to at the end of a day of riding. And I think that's what gave me the gumbies to walk after that. I missed walking off a really bad bit of pain. I actually missed it. Pushing through the pain as I walked felt good, as messed up as that sounds. And the rest of me, as the night has progressed, has gotten sorer and sorer and I can't help but feel that same sense of distorted pride, like I somehow kicked that ice's ass today, even if it clearly got the best of me.

Tomorrow, I'm taking a pregnancy test. That's the plan. Unless my belly goes down by then, which hasn't been the case so far. :/

I think I decided a long time ago that it wouldn't be my genre to hide it for the eight weeks, you know? So whatever it is tomorrow, I guess I'll say it out loud. (Most likely negative, just so you know. And I mean it too. It's not wishful thinking. Statistically, I'm not preggers. But I digress.)

I tell you though, if I am preggers, that's some scary shit because we've been careful. Like, really. Like, terrified of getting preggers right now careful.

Anyway.

So... yeah.

So Jemma was really good the whole way on the walk. That's what totally reinforced the idea that maybe I need to give her more benefit of the doubt before disciplining her so strongly. And maybe she needs a little spoiling too. She does feel left out, I think. It is a lot of dog in this house and being that she's always good and never demanding, she does get pushed aside too often.

Probably why she's getting barky. Gets you noticed, you know?

Anyway, I'm going to sleep. I miss my boyfriend even more when I'm in the other room all night. :(