Sipping dhal when the back pain is too much..

Sun is up, alarm rings. I lie in the bed and stretch and think right, yep.. get up.. warm up the back. I laugh at it. I say the prayers, and say today will be a good day.   Back stretches a bit and it feels loose.

Get started. Things are busy. Chores.  I get going. taking time. I hear the raised voices. I am on the phone talking work. I hear the voices raised, the quarrel that I never wanted to hear again.

The man's voice, ugly, contemptuous, mocking. The violence was never physical . The woman's voice , raised too, voice which I had hoped would never have to raise like that. People would hear.

I try a weak.. please stop.. but like in the past, it made no difference. I want to choke the man, stop the voice. I had hoped to run away from it.

I hang up the phone. Body crumples, I lose control. I am supposed to breathe deeply and smile. I feel like falling and I hold on. Dry sobs come out which I keep silent as I hear the ugly words which I thought I could have stayed and silenced.

This is not how it is supposed to be. I keep telling myself, come on.. get on with the things. This is your duty and so, blessings will come.  The pain comes though. Maybe the pain is the blessing.

The voices stop. I feel weak. I realise that it was a joke, the feeling of wellness.

The body moves slowly. Dhal to make too and other things.

I keep hoping that I could restore the schedule in the day. My mind moves on the hands. Things move.

Body continues to feel stiff. I know I should be breathing deeply. I try it, but it doesn't really work.
I go down on the floor to start the yoga routine. I prepare. I shake up. I bend forward, back can't move . It hurts. I don't laugh this time. I realise that I can't make it and that this is not for now.

This was not how it was supposed to be. I keep rewiring the thoughts, relax, here and now. There are no voices saying ugly things. Tasks are completed. Relax..  but I know, because hard wired in the brain is the learning that waiting for the next upheaval, whatever that is,, that the spaces in between are not places of peace, but just anxiety.

Those spaces used to be fill with plans to leave, and to exit, to get out. Now that there is no getting out, the spaces are now filled with trying to adjust . The power of the promise thirty years ago, I was not going to put up with this any more. But wrong choices made. Other things, factors, duties.
Blessings.

So I get up without feeling flexible. Without the nice warm feelings of the day before. I answer requests politely.

I put some of the dhal in the cup. I don't really feel like drinking it or anything. But I know that I made my choices.

The dhal tastes good.  I am glad, I could have made it with the stiff body. 


This was not how it was supposed to be. This is how it is.  Accepting it is not helping the back though. Fighting it is not helping the back.