Almost a year since my last post.
May times I have thought about writing and then was carried away by some other 'to do'.
I don't feel that I have any profound thoughts or feelings to share but I do have an itch I can't scratch.
I was so excited to be working on a farm for the summer until the unbearable happened and I developed carpel tunnel. I cried at the hospital, the chiropractor, to my boss, to my mother and to myself.
I love working on the farm. I love planting something to have it grow and produce food for your enjoyment. The labor that goes into working under the hot sun, gathering zucchini from the sticky vines. Counting and bandaging beets with the rubber bands holding four of your fingers together, filling each crate until there are no more left. Lifting the dust from my sandals and drinking the water from my nalgene while it splashes down my face as I walk towards the truck. I sit on a crate between the two seats as we return to the barn to wash our fresh produce and prepare it for delivery.
I looked forward to each morning as I rose with the sun and roosters crow; beckoning to feed them. I showered outside while the sun licked my naked body and the hot water tamed my goosebumps from the chilly morning.
I was in love. So in love.
By the third night of sleeping in my trailer, I awoke to pain and tingling in my hand. I thought I must have laid on it wrong and continued back to sleep.
The next time it happened again but much worse and numerous times. I began to worry at this turn and called my mother, in which she convinced me it was just something you learned to deal with as you got older. I was convinced.
By my 7th night there, I awoke numerous times and could not shake the pain out of my hand like I had done the other nights. I eventually made it back to sleep but awoke again at 5am and could not return to sleep. I tried sleeping sitting up, noticing that the pain only reverberated when lying on my back.
I waited until 9am before I decided to go to the ER to find out what the real problem was.
Two weeks later today. I still am unsure. My chiropractor believes it is Thoracic Outlet Syndrome and I believe she may be right.
I still have all my things in the trailer still. I do not want to surrender my life at the farm. But I also do not want to cause myself more injury, especially not knowing the exact cause.
Its hard not to feel like a failure in some way.
I left my life in Seattle to live and work on a farm, only to find myself unable to continue after one week. I am living at my mothers' with no car and no job. I am not really close to anyone out here and am now second guessing my decision to go to school in Olympia.
I want some security, and although I could not have predicted any of this happening, I still can't help but try and untangle the past events and find out where I went wrong.
I realize security is only a mirage, but what a beautiful mirage that I lust after.
If you know me, you know that I have been a jack of all trades and master of none. I hate being bored, and I hate routine; until it is times when I have no ground beneath my feet that I will grab onto anything familiar.
So what do you do? What do I do?
This is one of those times when I feel like God or the Universe is silent. I scream and all that comes back to me is my own voice.
Perhaps this is my lesson.
To listen and have
I named this post Ecclesiastes because it reminds me of the verse "there is nothing new under the sun." And a few years back I was reading that book and feeling that everything is meaningless. This is also another way to say that your depressed. However, everything that I am going through right now is bringing back memories during that time in my life. Thus, reflecting a lesson that I must have missed and is waiting for me.
To sit down, when I feel anxious.