survival mode.

double-breath in.

we’ve said we were in survival mode before,
but these days, those other times are put to shame.
Evan is on edge all the time,
which is almost an impossible feat for him.
he has been taking care of me so much, since my accident.
he’s making sure we all survive this.
he scheduled 90% of all medical appointments I had in the last 19 days.
and there have been so. many. appointments.

survival mode.
if there wasn’t a meal train, I don’t know if I’d eat.
if my mom couldn’t drive me places, I wouldn’t go anywhere.
(I only go to doctor’s appointments and tee-ball games.)
if they didn’t bring me my pills each morning and night,
I would wait until the pain was too much.
sometimes I still do—saying I’m fine without pain meds.
trying to be fine without pain meds.
if Evan did give me showers, I would never be clean.
if Marcelline didn’t exist, I would try less to exist in each of these days.

these days, my pneumothorax make me breathe different.
I have to Google it each time: “collapsed lung medical term.”
it’s pneumothorax.
gasp-gasp… in-in… two sharp breaths in, unintentionally.
automatically.
they say it’s because I’m not breathing deep enough.
this is my body in survival mode.
making me breathe
in-in… like when you’re crying too hard sometimes and you’re shaking and you inhale two times quickly.
maybe my body is crying too hard on the inside.

I cry just a little bit on the outside each time at physical therapy.
it doesn’t hurt. (sometimes it does.)
my body just feels so foreign and broken when other people move my limbs for me.
I hate the feeling.
and I have to go to physical therapy twice a week for what feels like the rest of my life.
time is molasses.
and patience is not my virtue.
impatience is debatably the cause of my injury.
and the cure is an anti-venom: patience.
today, there was a man in PT who was probably 10 years my junior.
he was doing exercises, but also seemed to have a brain injury.
even in all this surviving, I know how lucky I am.
how much harder would it be for the village (for Evan) (for my mom) (for Marcelline) to help me survive, if I wasn’t the same—mentally?

survival mode means my body has several different parts that take turns howling at me.
survival mode means breaking down crying three days in a row, because doctors are so scary about pain meds:
one doctor: let’s get you off muscle relaxers immediately. they are bad.
another doctor: let’s get you off oxycodone immediately. it is bad.
another doctor: both are bad. and you have a history of addiction. be careful.
”a history of addiction” guts me. and I’m still in so much pain. trying to survive.
survival mode means there are only one and a half ways my body can be comfortably positioned to sleep: flat on my back or with a big pillow propped under my left shoulder.
survival mode means my body sleeps when it needs to.
I keep the weirdest hours now.
my mind thinks that I can do so many things.
I make lengthy plans to do those things.
then my body says I need to sleep for five hours of the day.

a few nights ago, survival mode had me awake at 4am.
I finally moved to my recliner in the living room.
I watched the last three episodes of Girls,
crying over the friendships, dreams, mistakes, and bridges—both burned and built—of your twenties.
my injuries have prevented me from putting Marcelline down to sleep any nights.
we usually have a pattern of put-down.
two nights each.
it goes: Momma, Momma, Papa, Papa, Momma, Momma, Papa, Papa, etc.
hopefully forever until she moves out.
never mind, that’s creepy.
but I’ve missed putting her down.
after Girls, I went into Marcelline’s room around 7:30am.
me: hey Marcie, can you scooch over, so I can lay down with you? I love you.
Marcie: I love you, too.

something about the full acknowledgement slayed me.
she moved over. she said, “I love you, too.”
a full sentence.
she’s getting so big.
too big.
I laid awake for another hour, listening to her breathe.
she didn’t have any double-breaths in.
I hope she never has trouble breathing again ever in her life.
we saw her struggle to breathe once, during an allergic reaction.
the only time we’ve used an epi pen on her.
we did it in a survival-mode move.

that night/morning/hour, in bed with Marcelline, I didn’t think about anything but how glad I survived.
in an Instagram post, I said, “I’m going to live,”
but I think that was weird early-survival-mode, hoping I would be planning new adventures soon—LIVING.
I didn’t really feel my survival until that night/morning/hour.
it was the first real time that I wasn’t trying to survive and was truly happy I survived.
I thought about how I would’ve never gotten a single more “I love you” to my daughter. my husband. my mom. my dad. my sister. my brother. each of my family members. each of my friends.
but mostly my daughter.
I let my mind spiral to wondering how much a six-year-old could ever remember someone, if they disappeared.
she’s a great kid, though.
and she has Evan.
she’d be fine whether she remembered me or not.
and that made me cry hard.
warm tears that felt fuller and wetter than ever before,
running perpendicular down my cheeks as I laid flat on my back.
the quiet sobbing made me double-breathe in.
well, it was that or the pneumothorax.

---

Quick Hits:

• Jam Of The Week: Sylvan Esso – Concrete Glen.
  (this song is so refreshing to me these days. I listened to it three times in a row yesterday.)

  A Brief Review Of Everything I’ve Watched Whilst Healing

  Off Campus: B+
  Obviously, this sexy little college rom-com is wonderful. You didn’t hear it here first, but if you’ve been considering watching it, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?? Lace up them skates and get going! Warning: Will make you horny… for sex or hockey. Made me fall in love with this song.
  

  Widow’s Bay: A++
  Can everyone just stop what they’re doing and go watch this real quick? Patricia is my favorite character by a landslide. She makes me laugh SO hard. But also, this show is scarier than everyone said it would be! But maybe I’m a scaredy cat.
  

  Voicemails For Isabelle: B
  I’m realizing maybe I’m an easy cry, but I cried a lot in this film. I’m emotional these days!! I did really like this film—ATX, represent! I, too, constantly bitch about the lack of breakfast tacos everywhere.
  

  DTF St. Louis: A–
  I had NO idea what this was about before watching. What a weird-ass show! I loved it, but would barely recommend it to anyone. There’s a lot of weird sex stuff. I think this whole series was worth it for the random dance scenes that no one would sanely qualify and “dance scenes.”
  

  The Invite: A
  Evan and I got to go on a date (thanks, mom!) to see this movie. I loved it. Basically one location, only four actors. I thought it was beautiful and funny and real, but in a way where it made me love my partner more. (could def go the other way with this one, so know your situation.)
  

  The Sandlot for the 1000th time: A+
  Such a great summer movie. Watching it with Marcie, my mom, and Evan the other night was an absolute blast.

  RuPaul’s Drag Race All-Stars 11: B
  Meh. Not my favorite, not my least favorite. I love drag queens.
  

  The Pout Pout Fish: D
  god, that movie sucked. stick to the book!
  

  The Sheep Detectives: A+
  LOVED it. Perfect family movie.

  
  Mariners Baseball: Solid C.
  What the eff was that series against Texas? This is getting stressful, Ms! Though last night’s game was great.
  

I have this Amazon cart of things I’m not buying yet, but want to share, but then remember how much Amazon sucks and I shouldn’t buy stuff like this from them, but then think, fuck it… we’re all jus trying out best and maybe I’ll push purchase on all this stuff sometime this week.

I’m excited about the Full Moon tomorrow/tonight. It’s after 2am now. My sleep is a mess. My apartment is a mess. My life… well, I’m surviving. Should I do some manifesting before I go to sleep? Do you think it will work? Should I howl at the moon in an attempt to make my tailbone howl less? Whichever dog bark louder wins, right?

Thanks so much for being here through this ramble. It really helps. And HUGE thank you to all my new Paid Subscribers!!!!! You are actual angels on earth. You are making this time so much sweeter. Thank you thank you. It helps SO much. I love you.

xxo,
Rachel.