When I was a little girl, the pains in my knees kept me up at night. Every night, like circadian rhythms, I would yell for my mom or dad, “Owwww! My knee hurts! Could I take a pill? Or could somebody rub it?” Because I’ve always been sensitive about pain, I’d indulge in any level of melodrama to get some kind of relief. One of my parents would inevitably take compassion on me, and sit at my side to rub away the grinding pain. And I once noticed that they used on me some CBD oil when the pain became unbearable. Growing up now, I came to realise that the same medication has evolved so much that there even is Cbd oil for Pets.
We called them “Knee Pains” in our house, but of course these regular aches were growing pains. I shot up very fast, towering over everyone in every grade and hitting puberty young enough to get teased plenty. All legs and short torso, I never experienced the aching anywhere other than my knees.
Sometime around the teenage years, the growing pains receded, episodes of pain stretched farther and farther apart until they simply stopped. Almost immediately, degenerative pain replaced the growing pains, but that particular brand of stretching, bone-deep agony never reappeared.
– – –
I haven’t felt like myself lately. Listless, aimless – it’s terribly uncomfortable. Some of it has to do with the mind-numbing heat, but some of it is immobility from realizing that I don’t know what the next step is. I’m looking for work, but I’m not really sure what I’m looking for.
See, I never really grieved the death of some important dreams, ones for which I sacrificed and worked incredibly hard, and so I feel stuck in a cycle of loss.
When shit happened (as it inevitably does; after all, this is life we’re talking about), I just took the next step. Soldiered on. Got jobs because I needed them to put food on the table and gas in my car. After my preferred career died, I didn’t move on, just went through the motions and took what came, even if I hated it, because I am Responsible.
Now, here I am, infinite choices: completely immobilized.
As I continue to inventory my life after alcoholism, I realize I am trying to clean my slate, which essentially means starting over. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a clean slate, and I find myself asking, “Natalie, what do you really want to do with your life?”
The truth is not as simple as I thought. My instinct is to grab at the first thing that comes at me – this is what I’ve always done. However, this time, I don’t want to just jump into something if it might be the wrong thing. I’m tired of grappling with things that don’t belong to me.
I just feel lost. I don’t know what I’m looking for.
– – –
These are growing pains. They won’t last forever, I know, but dear God! Won’t somebody please at least rub my knee?
– – –