Thank you for waiting.
Thanks a lot [*sarcasm*] Michael Franti and Spearhead for this video. Which appeared on MTV this morning (I like to zone out to bad pop – and whatever else has a music vid – during my workouts) while I was on the treadmill (yes, sometimes I run. I don’t pretend to like it). Look, I understand that it’s entirely possible I’ll have some kind of breakdown when I least expect it but… at the gym? Really?
As much as I want to start fucking feeling something, I’d PREFER it not happen at the damn gym.
And, furthermore, do we really want to keep reinforcing my already well-developed ability to block this?
I wonder if Mr. Franti understands how incredibly significant it is to tell someone “I’ll be waiting”… and fucking mean it.
In this world of nano-second communication, of connection across continents and oceans, where we no longer need to be in the same room to be face to face, where everything we want to have and know and hear and understand is at our fucking fingertips, where everything moves (sometimes quite literally) at the speed of light… what happens when real fucking life knocks you on your ass?
What happens when you can’t keep up, not because you don’t want to, but because, despite all of our technology, real fucking life does not happen in nanoseconds, and what’s more? Even when everything does change in the blink of an eye? We are not wired to deal with real fucking life in an instant.
My sister is not going to get better over night. She’s not wired that way. We have to remind ourselves, over and over again, that it’s real fuckin’ easy to think she’s progressed further than she actually has. And, as she recovers cognitive ability, this shit is, more than likely, going to get pretty fucking difficult all over again. Just in a different way.
I am not going to get over this over night, either. And while I know that, I also can’t force the process, no matter how much I want to. That is pretty fucking clear. And, as my sister recovers, there are going to be more bumps in the road. Or gigantic car-swallowing potholes. Whatever. So it’s not like this shit is over.
And yet. Life continues. The world spins madly on.
In the week before I came home, it wasn’t a particularly good idea for me to be on Facebook. My burlesque company had two shows (one a fairly big deal) and a photo shoot while I was gone. Looking at the pictures made me fucking sad. And jealous. Reading about all of my friend’s lives, the things they were doing and how they were happy…. I was resentful.
The minute we stand still, because we choose to or because we’re forced, it’s so easy to watch the world spin on without us. Because it does.
It has never really sunk in for me how much attention and caring are required for someone to wait for you. It’s so easy for us, in this day and age, to move on. To say “oh, so sorry” in the moment… and then get wrapped up in our nano-second lives.
You never understand how important it is that people are waiting for you… until you’re the one who can’t keep up.
I know that people are waiting for me. I also know that some are not, and that’s ok, too. It has to be. There shouldn’t be hard feelings against those who don’t care enough or know enough to wait… but the focus should instead be on the people who are still there.
And on the understanding that, when it’s your turn, you’ll make sure someone else knows you’re waiting.
… and everyone else who is waiting for me. Much much love.