zen and the art of pain management.

Dear Facebook, 

I'm single, and have a BMI of 22. Stop telling me to lose weight for my fucking wedding. 

I don't get angry all that often. (note: I'm not angry now, this isn't one of those posts)

I spent a few years in a near constant state of self-doubt and high anxiety, but I never really got angry. I don't know what to do when I get mad. Stereotypically people yell and hit things when they get mad. I yell and hit things all day long so that doesn't quite do it for me. Yeah.. anger's funny stuff. More fire than I'm used to- though I guess I'm happy to have it.

Happy about being angry, folks, you heard it here first. yes.. I know.. I KNOW.

Figured out I can handle about thirty hours of 17 screaming children before I want to curl up into a ball and die. Wound myself up to a near full blown rage-stroke Friday morning thanks to three screaming creatures on the bus- averted when Master Shifu laughed at me when I arrived at work spewing fire and brimstone. I'm an easy fix, seems. I guess things change.

I've recently had the chance to figure out that my most genuine response to pain is to get mad. This wasn't always the case, contrary to what some of you may think, and I find the evolution interesting. At some point I'd have shied away or become upset or sad or otherwise hurty feelingsy if I got hurt physically.. not anymore, guy. Now when I get hurt I want blood.

Another notable transformation: I got scared the other day (like jumped, like random-noise-in-the-apartment-when-I-get-home-jumped) and I didn't flinch like I usually do, I faced the noise and my guards snapped up. First time I did this I laughed out loud to no one. It wasn't voluntary- it just happened. I'm not saying I'm some killer assassin level million type ninja- this is the result of my lifestyle, and, if anything, I'm pleased to have acquired this kind of result after so long. In class, I am six to eight inches away from death or brain damage several times a week. My hands better come up if I need them.

Lets return to the noise thing for a minute, as I'm sure this is all related. I will commonly listen to music at brain numbing volumes (this, for example.. and later this, directly before walking into a starbucks.. because fuck everyone I wont do what you tell me), which doesn't bother me- it doesn't hurt, and it doesn't make me angry. With the kids it's probably all the erratic random crap, the whining, the brainless noises and the anxiety I still feel even as an adult because "gguuuyyyyssssssuuuggghhhh!!! you're going to get us trouble!!!!!" except I'm the one wagging my finger to calm the noise down.. this doesn't make any sense. (I KNOW.)

So Friday morning, sitting in my plastic bus seat, hiding behind my sunglasses I become a churning vortex of doom and animosity, and slowly lose my mind listening to these assholes shriek, unmanaged by their idiot parents. Read: Primed for teaching.

Yes. I get that kids make noise. HOWEVER. These three were the special kind, the kind you normally only get one of at any given bank, movie theatre, convenience store etc.. where all the normal people kinda back up and do the impolite stare/not stare thing.

MOVING ON.

I first noticed this wee transformation from an inward to outward directed pain reaction when I was in the dentists chair-- I spend so much time there, you see.

They took off a bunch of my back tooth because it cracked SOMEHOW after they fucked around back there on a few different occasions. Whatever. Their plan now is to drizzle every smelly, toxic substance on the planet slowly into my face and let me sit there for seven minutes in a sort of half-swallow/half-gag while it hardens around what's left of my tooth. They don't realize how close they've come to being covered in my morning coffee.. (yes.. I drink coffee now.. I KNOW).

They have further plans to replace this mess with a more favorable substance at some point, but I couldn't tell you when.

In order to do this magical exchange, they removed the protective temporary once, filled it with some putrid colder-than-room-temperature-material, and stuck it back in my mouth. Right on top of the sad, headless tooth.

I don't know if I have any intelligent words for how much it hurt, but here's what happened:

I couldn't sit still, everything got really hot, and I had to breathe very slowly. I also noticed my desire to cause great damage to things around me increased many fold.

I don't make (much) noise or faces when I get hurt. My pain face looks just like my normal face.. which looks just like my excited face, incidentally. It's a mechanism, not an affect defect- it's a choice. It didn't surprise me much to get the look the dentist gave me when I tapped him on the shoulder and said with relative calm, "thiff hurth, ah khan kepp eth ehn annemohr."

Like he didn't believe me.

Fucker.

Is this weird? I thought it was interesting- well.. not at the time.

Also my foot's on a slow break, turns out, so I get a pretty constant dose of low grade throb on a daily basis, though it's better now that I have this shoe-thing. It's probably good that I don't know many folks in the area who might run up to me and grab my arm in greeting, tap my head, poke my ribs, pick me up (don't ever pick me up from behind/at all, please, unless I know you're there/you're one of three people). I'd probably lay them out, I'm so prickly these days. It's getting better though.. so.. if I ever do run into anyone here, they should be safe in a week or two.

This morning I awoke with thoughts of a Polish girl who broke my heart.

Later in the day I got misty eyed at the Holocaust Memorial in the North End.. while wearing a Joy Division shirt.. because I'm an asshole.. (yes.. I know.. I KNOW.)

I need some puppy time.