"How blessed we are to have tragedies so small they fit on the tips of our tongues." This is a profound line from Rudy Francisco's "Complainers." He is my absolute favorite contemporary poet. Please, go watch him read this on YouTube.
This has been a challenging month. Fitting way to end a hell of a year, I suppose. Without getting into details, this line from Rudy's poem speaks hard to my heart.
Right after Thanksgiving, I had an absolute Lifetime Movie-worthy experience in a long-term relationship. As an empath (ENFJ, the Protagonist!), I have often found myself attracting energy drainers who feed off my positivity, my sympathy, and my natural inclination to sacrifice to "fix" someone who needs help. While I was reeling from a cataclysmic breach of reality as I knew it, I found myself trying to nurture someone else injured by the same blitzkrieg. Weirdly, I found myself unable to cry even though I needed to. I wound up with some sleeping issues because my body was stressed about everything, even though my mind felt numb. I knew I needed to cry to release the stress, but it wasn't happening. I wound up arranging for therapy through my EAP. This led me to finally cry a little, but then it dried up. Funny as it sounds, I wound up providing my therapist with interesting, helpful things (like Rudy's poem). Anyhow, this situation is a biggie on the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory...
Meanwhile, it was the end of the semester. My students had a huge project and presentation at City Hall. We were also moving to a new school building and had all sorts of packing, sorting, and craziness to attend to. There was so much on my plate in the midst of this personal crisis, and yet, life had to go on; these things had to be done.
We had the opportunity to take personal things to the new school building and unpack boxes when our midterms were complete. Fortunately for me, mine were done on Monday. Tuesday, I went back and forth, unpacked, brought over things, going up and down many stairs, many times. Wednesday, I realized I needed help and a friend had a little wagon that she said she would bring. After bringing some lighter things up to my room, I received a text that she would meet me out front with her wagon. I went down the stairs, turned the corner from the stairwell to foyer, and SLAMMED into a glass wall. I have the video. It looks like open air, you cannot see the glass. (It clearly needs decals or posters or something). I hit that glass wall HARD and a goose egg immediately erupted. My face print was on the glass as I cradled my face and dazed sought help. No one was around for a couple of minutes. Finally, one of the guidance counselors came down the stairs, said, "Hello!" and then saw my head and my tears. She got me to sit and went to look for ice. This is not easy in a new building with barely anyone in it and nothing really open. Fortunately, she found the athletic director, and he had ice in the training room. My friend, who had been outside, came in and saw me. She sat with me and cared for me. I was in between laughter and tears. After all, I was like a bird flying into a window. I felt ridiculous. At some point, we went upstairs, and while she looked for someone to do an incident report, I sat at my new desk with my head on the enormous ice bag I had been given.
Here I was - embarrassed and feeling sorry for myself for doing this. I was dizzy, and it hurt pretty badly. The bump was huge. I was in this misery when I heard a very loud THUNK. It puzzled me; I lifted my head. No one was in the room next door, and yet it sounded so close. People were moving into the building in bits and pieces. Maybe a box had fallen over? My head hurt, down it went, back on the ice.
Several minutes later, a math teacher stopped by my door and stammered something about "Did someone say a man fell off the roof?" I froze. I got up, rushed to my second-floor window. I knew now the source of the thunk. I looked down and began to cry, I could see blood. I could see rope and a metal object. And then... I could hear agony, brutal, sheer human agony. I couldn't see his body but something was happening. (I later heard that another worker was with him at that moment). A few moments more and EMS arrived. Putting him on the stretcher had to have been horrific because the cries and moans were louder, carrying up to my room and my closed windows. This man had fallen at least 40 feet. (I can report that he has no spinal or brain injuries. Much is broken, but he is alive and not dead.)
So here we are - I had tragedies that in the grand scheme of things were so small they could fit on the tip of my tongue. While I was reeling from betrayal and stupidity, just outside my window, a man nearly lost his life and surely has incredible challenges in his future. My concussion is so incredibly small compared to the injuries this man endured.
I had not been able to cry in the midst of the betrayal until the collision with the wall opened my tear ducts with pain. My prayers and tears then flowed for this man. I've been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but it feels natural and necessary. How blessed I am to have these tragedies so small that they fit on the tip of my tongue?????
