Weak At the Knees

That time I slumped onto the floor in late May has been floating around my head lately.

That day, that moment, my knees turned to jelly and failed me and my vocal chords in so much pain they could not produce a single sound.

Just a painful soundless cry of deep sorrow.

And the sawdust that replaced my stomach - the heavy and airy sawdust that just existed there in lieu of my natural organs - had me gasping for air.

It felt surreal.

That single moment has marked me forever.

As I try to explain - to understand - certain events in my life that led up to that, I am at a loss for reason. I only know what I feel. A deep, profound loss that echoes in my persona now. A loss compounded by discoveries that were made in the months following that.

My metabolism hasn´t been the same. New exams didn´t line up with previous medical examinations. Reasons were in short supply. It was eight months afterwards that a doctor finally concluded that I must have suffered a deep emotional shock. Until he uttered those words, I didn´t really understand how much emotions can impact one´s physicality.

And now my mind fluctuates between anger and grief. Something that meant the world to me was definitively lost at that moment. And it took me a whole six months to really understand that it was the only way that could have possibly gone.

Eventually my voice came back. The sawdust was cleaned out. My knees solidified.

But the wounds have not fully healed. Where the sawdust was is just now a gaping emptiness that goes with me wherever I go.

I try not to dwell on it.

But there are some days, like today, when I do.

Categories: