(no subject)
I hadn't thought about interiority for a long time until today. But I got in a car accident this morning (I'm just fine, bumps and bruises only), and it reminded me how very much one can pull into one's body when necessary.
Once the details were taken care of, my primary interest was in all these parts and pieces that make me up, and how were they doing. My shoulder range-of-motion, was that improving? My headache, exactly what kind of headache did it feel like? Were my pupils of equal size? Why wasn't I bleeding anywhere? And ooh, when did those calf bruises start to develop, and why were they so very hard?? There were also less physical issues absorbing my interest - Why did I not cry or worry about myself until the moment my dad answered the phone? How could I placidly sit and watch oncoming traffic bearing down on me in the middle of the highway, though I'd just been hit and spun round and ought to be terrified? In fact, why wasn't I scared much at all, nor shook, nor nervous? The world around was never fuzzy, and sounds didn't dim like they might've...but it simply didn't matter to me. My interest narrowed to me, and being fine moment to moment, and resting when I wasn't. It was a selfishness that I would berate myself for under many other circumstances, but have no energy for in this. I would be very surprised if I didn't lose two hours of my interminable four in the hospital simply through drifting into myself.
I've also always wondered how I'd be in an emergency-like situation, and this is the first real opportunity I've had as an adult. I was fine talking to the police, and then the fire department, and perfectly sure that I did NOT need an ambulance ride, the sisters were coming for me thankyouverymuch. All in all, I performed almost up to my own standards. The only thing is that I wish I'd gone over to the other woman and made sure myself that she was okay, instead of asking other people over and over. (And over.)
It was in no way a red letter day...but I'm quietly going to be proud of myself.
Once the details were taken care of, my primary interest was in all these parts and pieces that make me up, and how were they doing. My shoulder range-of-motion, was that improving? My headache, exactly what kind of headache did it feel like? Were my pupils of equal size? Why wasn't I bleeding anywhere? And ooh, when did those calf bruises start to develop, and why were they so very hard?? There were also less physical issues absorbing my interest - Why did I not cry or worry about myself until the moment my dad answered the phone? How could I placidly sit and watch oncoming traffic bearing down on me in the middle of the highway, though I'd just been hit and spun round and ought to be terrified? In fact, why wasn't I scared much at all, nor shook, nor nervous? The world around was never fuzzy, and sounds didn't dim like they might've...but it simply didn't matter to me. My interest narrowed to me, and being fine moment to moment, and resting when I wasn't. It was a selfishness that I would berate myself for under many other circumstances, but have no energy for in this. I would be very surprised if I didn't lose two hours of my interminable four in the hospital simply through drifting into myself.
I've also always wondered how I'd be in an emergency-like situation, and this is the first real opportunity I've had as an adult. I was fine talking to the police, and then the fire department, and perfectly sure that I did NOT need an ambulance ride, the sisters were coming for me thankyouverymuch. All in all, I performed almost up to my own standards. The only thing is that I wish I'd gone over to the other woman and made sure myself that she was okay, instead of asking other people over and over. (And over.)
It was in no way a red letter day...but I'm quietly going to be proud of myself.