Pop goes the fragile

Over the years, I have noticed I have several "early warning systems" to tell me I am overdoing it and need to stoprightnow.

The first is achy pains that go down the backs of my legs. Not sciatica, just tender, crampy muscles. It sort of feels like working out at the gym too aggressively but is different enough that it's clearly not a "good hurt." This pain is what I felt as my first spinal fusion was starting to fail, so it definitely gets my attention even 14 years later.

Charging ahead at full speed for too long can also result in ridiculously frequent back spasms. Knots of jabby pain with bonus shocks of tingly nerves dancing all over my lower back. It is actually hot to the touch and I've often wondered if it is visible, sort of like a baby kicking inside the womb but totally not like that at all.

The dancing spasms is the pain that has literally brought me to my knees, made me burst into tears, and caused me to gasp and grab whatever is nearby for fear of losing my balance from the surprise of it all. Thankfully, it is typically pretty rare and doesn't terrify the crap out of me like it used to.

And then there is the emotional fragility. When I have been ignoring and stuffing my pain for too long, it starts to build up to an explosion of frustration and exhaustion. I've recently come to describe this condition as living with a "Jack-in-the-Box Brain." And by this I mean the toy, not the fast food joint with an advertising target I am quickly aging out of.

Somewhere along this pain path, I realized I have a very impressive ability to compartmentalize things...especially and most frequently back pain things. I can put my pain in a box in my brain with plans to deal with it later. Much like Dory in "Finding Nemo" my motto is often "just keep stuffing, just keep stuffing" while I go about the many fun and spirit-feeding things my life has to offer.

I realized the stark reality of this not long ago when a friend who also has many-years-of-back-pain commented that pain makes it so hard to enjoy even the simple things in life. While that seems like it should be Truth, the comment actually made me stop in my tracks because it makes no sense to me.

When I am fully engaged in a conversation, a dinner, a walk, weeding, exploring, adventuring, living...my pain goes right into my Jack-in-the-Box Brain. I thoroughly enjoy whatever I am doing and any little stabs or jabs or aches or cramps get flicked like gnats into the box to be dealt with later. I see them, I feel them, I know they are there...but I refuse to let them be anything more than a momentary annoyance so I can get back to the business of living life.

But the thing with a jack-in-the-box is that it is designed to build up pressure and then explode in happy, scary, clowny fun. And except for the whimsical hair, make-up, and wardrobe, that's where I find myself at the moment.

I am emotionally raw. I am exhausted. The pressure is almost at its max. I have been frantically stuffing for three months and it is about to explode all over my couch and bed and heating pad and Kleenex box. I know it is coming; perhaps I should just invite it out. Because I have people to see and places to go and much stuffing ahead that must be done. Maybe just one more crank of the handle so my Jack-in-the-Box Brain can release its contents to make room for more.