the healing process
March 23, 2004, 11:14 am

Dr. Ray: "How are you, kiddo?"

Me: *whimper*

Dr. Ray: "You know, you don't have to pay for this today. We'll put it on your Workman's Comp claim."

Me: *tears trickling down my face*

Dr. Ray: "Hey, you feel violated, and this little punk just messed up almost a year's worth of work we've done on your neck and back. We'll just work through this, okay? Unfortunately, I'm afraid any dreams you've had of touring on the pro-boxing circuit are dashed..."

Me: *giggle*

(later)

Me: "I feel a little better now."

Dr. Ray: "Okay kid, take care. I'll see you Friday."

The bruise on my arm is under my skin. You can see it if I'm outside; it's yellow underneath a layer of an angry red patch--just the size of a fist--and it hurts if I move it too much.

My neck is stiff and sore and impossible to put in a comfortable position. It doesn't like to go from side to side, but instead whines to turn it back to the front where I stare at the wall.

Valium is a powerful drug. I take it so I can sleep. I didn't take it once this weekend, and instead relied on alcohol and my friends to make everything okay (it worked until Sunday night/Monday morning).

I went to school yesterday and big B and K and Shermy pretended to be my bodyguards while I walked around campus, signalling each other on their "earpieces" and clearing out too many people that were in my way. K, who is John the Baptist in Godspell said, "Ms. B, let me tell you, Ms. B. That kid is SERIOUSLY lucky that I wasn't there. I wouldn't be here today, let me tell you. Not only that, but I'd smack his face into a few desks before I smashed it in with my fist just to prove my point. Ms. B, NO ONE messes with you, you know?"

It's nice that they care, but when I walk into that building, and I walk into that room, and when I walk into that class, I'm not fearless anymore. It used to be the place where I really felt I was my BEST self...now it's pretty much a place where I try not to move too much, I make sure there's plenty to do, and I constantly play with my hands because I can't let my anxiety show in my face.

I have a tendency to overdramatize things. I have a tendency to get too worked up over everything.

I have a bruise on my arm where a student deliberately hit me. I am not healing as well as I thought I would.