Two of these three events (ruptured appendix and broken wrist/shoulder) required major surgeries and nearly a week of hospitalization each. In all three cases, I found myself temporarily helpless, vulnerable, and completely dependent on the kindness, mercy, and generosity of others for my daily survival for extended periods of time. And in all three cases, I was deeply and profoundly reminded that injury and illness, rehabilitation and recovery, and health itself are never purely physical in nature, as so brilliantly expressed in the following poem by D.H. Lawrence.

Healing

I am not a mechanism, an assembly of various sections.
And it is not because the mechanism is working wrongly, that I am ill.
I am ill because of wounds to the soul, to the deep emotional self
and the wounds to the soul take a long, long time, only time can help
and patience, and a certain difficult repentance
long, difficult repentance, realization of life’s mistake, and the freeing oneself
from the endless repetition of the mistake
which mankind at large has chosen to sanctify.

D.H. Lawrence

I hope to write more about the emotional and psychological aspects of my current experience in injury, incapacity, and recovery in a future post.

* The Body – Thoughts – Feelings Connection

* Depressive Realism

* Self Care

The Kellevision blog has been up for a little over a year. It contains a wealth of perceptive, practical information about psychological health and self care, and is updated regularly. I plan to revisit it often to explore the archives as well as to keep up with the latest posts. Highly recommended.

treat your body like a poet
not a whorehouse.

treat your body like a park
not a war zone.

(PDF version)

what’s the half-life of a lousy childhood?
stranglehold tentacles
come out of a house where
nobody I know lives anymore
body and soul clench like a fist
when that hairy hand tries to pull me down
I need lights
I need noise
I need naked female flesh all around
else I implode.

how do I give up what I don’t understand?
this home isn’t broken it’s blown to hell.

now here’s a place where I can be unhappy in peace
totally safe and unbelievable
a crime against everything I was brought up to be
a slap in the face to that guy who thinks
he knows how it’s supposed to be done
a tight connection to all those old friends
I thought I’d left behind
whores just like me
who knows what they sell themselves for?

last chance for ro-mance
take care of these ladies and they’ll take care of you
why do I need this?

the weird thing is I don’t even see
most of these women anymore
not even as objects.

can’t buy a thrill?
sometimes I can sometimes I can’t but
I don’t need a thrill
I need a break.

(PDF version)

my skin remembers
slap of the flyswatter metal wire handle.

my tongue remembers
bar of soap shoved in my mouth.

my hand remembers
spilled milk on the first day of first grade.

my stomach remembers
crying in front of everyone ’cause I lost the fight.

my knee remembers
wait for me daddy before I fell + broke my leg.

my feet remember
please teach ricky how to skip
pinned to my kindergarten shirt.

my chin remembers
falling out of bed into a
daddy’s mad again hot sunday night.

my nose remembers
can’t breathe comic books in ragweed darkness.

my fingers remember
building model rockets in a cool summer basement.

my neck remembers
father’s hands closing tight around my throat.

my ears remember
mother screaming stop it dick stop it.

time passes but nothing is lost
I can’t fool myself
my body remembers everything.

(PDF version)

he had a lot of leg cramps at night
he called that a goddam charley horse
I used to wake up with intense pain in my leg
the leg I broke
trying to catch up with him
when I was first learning to walk.

sometimes we’d both wake up at the same time
on the same night
I liked this because I got to spend some quiet time
alone with him.

I never wanted to go back to bed on those nights
we’d sit in the living room or the kitchen
in the dark or with a dim light on
he seemed more open in those moments
I didn’t feel like he hated me then
maybe it was because he was sleepy
or in pain.

those were special occasions for me
nothing to accomplish or be judged on
we each had our own pain
similar but not the same
he was empathetic
I felt connected to him.

in those brief moments
I always felt that I was just like him
just like I always wanted to be.

(PDF version)

I’m a spiritual child who grows up
being told + shown that
god is just a sunday morning pain in the ass
waiting for me to screw up
so he can rip my life to shreds.

I’m a passionate child who grows up
being told + shown that
feelings are unacceptable + dangerous
to myself + others.

I’m a creative child who grows up
being told + shown that
adults don’t have time to be creative.

I’m an honest child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m always supposed to tell the truth but
it’s usually safer + more acceptable to lie.

I’m an independent child who grows up
being told + shown that
going my own way leads to rejection + disaster.

I’m an intuitive child who grows up
being told + shown that
I need a logical justification for
everything I do say + feel.

I’m a smiling child who grows up
being told + shown that
laughter is the best medicine but
happy people usually get punished somehow.

I’m an energetic child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m not doing enough because I’m lazy.

I’m a gifted child who grows up
being told + shown that
my contributions aren’t very important in this world.

I’m a curious child who grows up
being told + shown that
self-awareness endangers the family
so I’d better not question things too much.

I’m a patient child who grows up
being told + shown that
there’s not enough time
I’m going too slow
everyone’s tired of waiting for me.

I’m a bright child who grows up
being told + shown that
the brain is where it’s at but
people who make a living with their brains
are lazy bastards.

I’m a trusting child who grows up
being told + shown that
I don’t deserve to be trusted + trust
opens the door to abuse.

I’m a hopeful child who grows up
being told + shown that
life is a series of unhappy events + disasters
so don’t expect too much.

I’m an innocent child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m a bad boy + I oughta be ashamed of myself.

I’m an open-hearted child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’ll never be good enough
I’ll never be loved enough
I’ll never be man enough.

I’m a sad frightened
lonely needy
raging hurting child.

(PDF version)

my shoulders are connected to my head
my arms come out of my ears
my legs come out of my back
my hands come out of my chest.

I’m a hunchback
I’m a razor blade
I’m a boy scout
I’m afraid.

(PDF version)