I went to yoga yesterday (some of you may remember that this is part of my brilliant "lying down" exercise plan).
I was struggling to do one of the positions, which often happens as my DDH (developmental dysplasia of the hips) causes problems and means I can't move in certain ways.
My yoga teacher told me that I was holding on to some emotion, most likely to do with my upcoming operation, and that it was seizing me up. She's very good at this. As someone pretty sceptical about spiritual aspects, I still can't help being impressed at how she has this incredible ability to poke and prod various bits of your body, and then tell you exactly what is going on in your head.
So later, I decided to have a think about it. Explore my emotions surrounding my operation, so to speak.
Up until then, if you'd asked me how I felt about my upcoming operation (17th May - make a note people) I guess I would have said I felt scared. And since that's not a helpful emotion to me, my coping strategy has generally been just not to think about it.
But I faced up and I thought about it, and thought about how I feel about everything I'm going to go through, and I realised that actually I was really angry about it all. Really, REALLY angry! Which was unexpected.
I was 'who the hell decided that I should have to go through all of this crap, anyway?' kind of angry.
When I talked to MM later that evening, I was still angry. I was aware that there was no logical reason to be angry, or indeed anyone really to be angry at, but boy, oh boy, was I mad.
I know that there are people in this world with problems that make mine pale in comparison. And actually, on most days, I appreciate that I am incredibly lucky just to be able to walk. If I had been born maybe 50 years earlier, I could possibly have been in a wheelchair my whole life.
But yesterday, I didn't want to hear that. MM tried to point this all out to me, and got an earful. "WHO THE HELL DO THEY THINK THEY ARE TO DO THIS TO ME?!" I yelled. "I wasn't even given a bloody CHOICE!" "I didn't ask for this STUPID BROKEN body, and I don't want it. I bloody don't. I don't want to have to be dealing with any of this crap. I'm out. I choose NOT to have stupid, CRAPPY, broken hips. I am DONE with this shit."
Incidentally, in case the above is not clear, I was not angry with the doctors, or with my parents, or myself. No, no. I was angry with the UNIVERSE. I have no idea who the "they" are that I was angry at, but boy I wanted to pound them into the ground. Who chose to put me through this, huh? HUH? Yeah, well they'd be sorry when I got my hands on them.
"And, AND" I continued to MM, "They didn't even have the decency to make me 6 foot tall, did they? Noooooo. They take away my ability to wear high heels, like EVERY. OTHER. normal 26 year old girl gets to do, and just for FUN, they also made me 5 foot pissing 1!! So I look 12 years old and completely stupid wearing flat shoes. THAT'S JUST TAKING THE PISS, THAT IS! Jeez!"
All this time, there had been silence on the other end of the phone. MM was clearly a little stumped as to how to respond to this rant against the universe.
But then, when I finally paused for breath, he said quietly, "But if you had been made 6 foot tall, I wouldn't be going out with you, would I?"
That shut me up.
It's all about perspective people.
So thank you, universe, for not making me 6 foot tall, and thank you for MM. I stand by all my other points though, ok? OK??? Good.