Growing up, my mother claimed I had selective hearing. I heard what I wanted and had the convenient skill to miss what I didn’t want to hear. It’s a talent. Though true, even today, the unfortunate circumstance of my youth was that I suffered from hearing issues from birth. My nurse mother explains that I struggled learning how to speak because I was hearing as though under water. My occasional mumbling might stem from that or that I have a lot to say and fear I might die before I get it all out. You never know.
There was a continuous string of “tube” surgeries that I underwent as a child and the only reason I allowed this was because one, my mother made me and two, my surgeon promised me a hallucination-like story of my favorite princess tale. I was always devastated when I could not remember this fantastical version of The Little Mermaid post-surgery- maybe the reason I kept going back. Or because Q-tips are evil, but feel so good. Is that wrong? I found out a few years ago that these so-called stories were lies from my mother, the nurse, who laughed at my ignorance.
Assisting my hearing struggles is my overactive imagination. I often talk to myself, whether living in the glamorous world my brain has concocted where I’m rich, famous, married to Chris Evans (The Winter Soldier was fabulous OMG), but humble. (We’ve discussed this before). Or else, I’m developing stories, dialogue that plays out behind my eyes in perfect sequence, but somehow struggles to come to light when I’m attempting to put it down onto
paper the digital sphere. My mind moves far too fast for actual pen to paper, but I often journal in cursive because it’s my favorite art form.
Some of my best stories come to life while I’m showering, running, or my favorite exercise in the world- swimming. When my body is floating and gliding- hopefully without any obstacles in the form of lane mates- and I can’t be tied down by a phone in my hand or even music that sometimes stumps my creative flow. I’ve found time and time again during my constant quest to meditate that I am not one who benefits from sitting still. My relaxation comes best in the form of exercise, when the blood pumps high to the brain and boosts my spirit, and when my body isn’t itching to move.
Don’t get me wrong, I can veg on the couch like the best of them, but this includes watching TV, browsing online, or reading a book. Maybe it’s a problem that I can’t just sit still for the hell of it, but I’ve made it work for me. My incessant overzealous dialogue with myself, detailed new world with a host of characters, or motivation to keep on going going going has kept me on my toes.
Despite understanding this, I still surprised myself today. Due to a busted hip, I was struggling to run through a bit of pain and limping up a hilly part of my route, thinking I needed to give up. I thought, “Nothing good in life is easy, kitten, keep on going.” I don’t know where or why the “kitten” thing came to light, but I laughed so hard I didn’t realize I made it up the hill without another negative thought.
When life throws one at you, don’t question it. Just appreciate that there can still be some silliness in a world that often seems out to get everyone.