twinge

1 Jun

You know I love to draw analogies. It struck me this month that there are two types of weather-related twinges I experience. Bad weather, along with stress and unexpected sudden moves still make my gammy knee play up from time to time, even though technically that should all have healed up ages ago. On the other hand, really hot weather, stress and unexpected sudden moves can still give me a twinge of grief, even though technically that should all have healed up ages ago.

It’s funny how your brain subconciously makes links with months of the year, the weather, a certain ring tone, etc. even when you had consciously forgotten about those things, and takes the bypass straight to your emotions. I think the Stereophonics summed this up very well … "there’s no mistake, I smell that smell, it’s that time of year again, I can taste the air…"

Anyway don’t be alarmed, I’m not terribly down or anything, I was just interested to realise how much like a physical injury an emotional one can be… so I write this on my phone on the train. (And was impressed the predictive text understood the word ‘convalescence’.)

Twinge
Grief is an injury.
When a bone breaks, the shock, the pain is unbearable. White hot, it
consumes every ounce of attention. For weeks, months, life revolves
around coping and adjusting. With time, it heals. With more time, it
fades. The appointed convalescence ends and life resumes, outwardly
the same. But when you strip away your clothes, lay yourself bare in
the privacy of your bedroom or the warmth of the summer, there’s a
scar you uncover. A permanent mark. You don’t hate it – it’s a
secret sign just for you, a part of your story. And you can walk
fine. But when stress gets you down, or your burden’s too heavy, or
the weather reminds it, the twinge comes back. One random day of
pain, waiting to attack. But you’ll keep on running, so long as you
can see that your walk is slightly different now, shaped by that old
injury.

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