Today I started the process of making bone broth. It is disgusting. I was trying to think of things I could do to promote my bones being real real strong. I started talking to my friend Molly, who is a Naturopathic Doctor- shoutout to her for starting her own business. I recommend her to everyone. I literally trust her with my life. And she told me to make some bone broth so I’m making it! [Check. Her. OUT! http://drmollysearsnd.com You can get a 15 minute free consult. I promise you will learn something.] ‘Okay,’ I’m thinking, ‘I’ll be hella crafty.’ A regular housewife. Or like farm housewife. It was all fun and games until I started feeling real bad cooking up someone’s bones. Joe told me that this is like what the Native Americans would do- use all of the cow. Joe is one quarter Native American believe it or not (I know the red hair would fool you). His grandmother was Native American. Anyways I got my bones. I’m feeling pretty cool. I take a picture and send to my mom to freak her out. I also send to Molly so she knows how cool I am. Then, tonight, it comes time to actually put the bones in the crockpot and it freaked. me. out. Touching the bones. It made me feel so sad. I immediately thanked God and the cows for giving me their body that will help give me life. Which is interesting- because when I eat a burger I am not thanking the cow for giving me its’ life… sometimes I pray before I eat…. But this just gave me new perspective. Maybe when I eat burgers I should be praying and thanking the cow and apologizing for not drinking it’s bones. Okay that sounds so messed up. Hopefully by the time the bone broth is finished I can actually stomach it. I’m not positive I will be able to.
Boot girl has crutches now. It’s a whole new level. It’s mixed responses from people on the street. I straight up almost screamed at a woman who was crossing the street opposite of me and who cut her path directly in front of me- basically cutting me off. “I HAVE CRUTCHES” I wanted to scream. “CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT?!” However I did not scream at her. I’m just sayin cut me and my crutches off at the wrong time and you might GET IT. Then there’s the people who are worried about me existing on the streets of New York with crutches… which I get. Haha. It is so easy to fall into a victim state of mind while I’m crutching along. Because I get so angry and sensitive and frustrated that moving is taking so much effort and blah blah blah. But really- I’m not a victim. I’m a f@#$#%$ing privileged, white, young, woman. And I’m actually fine.
My old physical therapist from back home told me she wanted me to do yoga to “down-regulate the central nervous system.” I had to do some research to understand what this meant- and ultimately I think what she was telling me to do was to calm the fuck down. I looked up some poses but I avoid doing this all day because it seems boring and lonely. When Joe comes over he does it with me and it is much less lonely. And for the record I was completely right to be afraid of these freaking yoga poses. You do them and all the sadness and scary thoughts get released… which is a good thing… because then you can release them. But first you have to say hello to them and that’s the real thing I was avoiding. But Joe is the sweetest and does the poses next to me but cheats and holds my hand at the same time. -They are all very tame, laying down/sitting poses…#bootgirl #noweightbaring. Then we go to the wall for our final pose and put our feet up on the wall. It has been pretty peaceful until this pose. But somehow in this pose Joe can’t take a single breath without his back sticking to the ground and making a fart noise. Truly every breath. And truly Joe finds this to be quote “The funniest thing that has ever happened to him.” So he breaths and then laughs for probably two minutes straight. And then on I am laughing too of course. Then we are somehow quiet for maybe 20 seconds and that is enough nervous-system-balancing-yoga for one night.
I was on the train the other day and a girl came on with a crutch. I glanced at her when she came on and smiled. We obviously get each other because we both got crutches. Well she has one. I have two. I looked over at her later on our ride and she was smiling at me. We were best friends without having to talk about it. We just knew. A lady came on to the train a bit later, asking for food and clothes. I have seen her a few times before on the trains. She is a veteran, she has kids, and is staying in a shelter. She never asks for money, only food and clothes. When she made her way through the train and over to my side she stopped in front of me and told me to “Have a good day, if I can”. I laughed and thanked her. She then proceeded to tell me that she had been on crutches and her leg never healed and she had to have 16 surgeries…. Or at least that’s what my brain heard. There’s no way it was 16. But the moral of the story was she was doomed in her healing and she hoped I wasn’t doomed but you just never know. She got off the train at the next stop. I turned to Joe who was next to me, “I think this boot makes me way too approachable.”
Having this injury has really opened my eyes to the healthcare system. I am currently on medicaid… #actorlife. Which I know won’t be forever. I have been doing lots of research on what doctors to see (I have experience with doctors all telling you different things and I truly believe in the importance 2nd and 3rd opinions-especially when surgery is on the table). I have gathered recommendations on who the best surgeons and podiatrists are, and who has expertise with runners and dancers. Many of these doctors do not accept medicaid. Which I understand. However, I was blown away to find out when calling a hospital that the doctor could “get in big trouble” for seeing me as a self-pay patient because I have medicaid. I thought this lady must be confused-even though she was very adamant about this. I called another doctor from the same hospital and the same thing- they will not see you if you have government insurance- you have to go through the clinic. This honestly makes me so furious. For so many people. Lower-income families literally do not even have the option of seeing these doctors- even if they want to pay out of pocket for a special opinion. To make sure they are getting the right opinion. I have found a good doctor who I trust who works with professional dancers. He does not accept insurance, but his office will appeal to your insurance company to try to get it covered. Medicaid almost never does. I recognize the only reason I am able to go see him- truthfully- is because I am privileged. I have the support I need to be able to go see him (thank you parents). So many people do not have this kind of support. And although one can never fully see through their privilege, I am becoming more aware of mine.
I went to the gym the other day- I have gone about once a week since getting the boot on… it probably seems like I’m there all the time… it’s all a facade. I like seeing myself in the mirror at the gym because then I remember I have a body. And I have not actually turned into a giant blob. I forget that I have a body. I feel like I’m just a blobby blob sitting around all day-trying not to walk too much. I went into the sauna afterwards- which is honestly the real reason I wanted to go to the gym this day. A lady came into the sauna with seven towels. Yes. SEVEN. You’re not really supposed to just stare at people in the sauna. But I had to watch her from the corner of my eye to understand this SEVEN towel thing. She is a rather small lady as well, so seeing her with seven towels almost made me laugh out loud. But it was just the two of us in there so that would have been a bit awkward. I watch her as she preps her spot. This was clearly something she had done before. She lays down one towel on the upper bench all the way flat. Then she stacks two on top of each other folded up. She rolls one up and places it like a pillow. She takes two of the towels and lays them on top of each other to block the crack under the door- which I was not aware existed. Then she uses the last towel to cover herself up. This whole time I’m starting to get really hot. But I can’t leave because I have to see what she does with all of the towels. And now that there are some covering the door and she is laying down I don’t want to disturb the whole thing and make her get up again. I sit another minute and then I have to get out. Somehow when I open the door I manage not to disturb the towels. I close the door and they are perfectly in place. I start to walk away and as I do I see the woman get up to move her entire towel situation over to where I was sitting. Apparently I was using her favorite spot. This is the reason most gyms keep all the towels up front and limit two per guest. But ya know, if this is her joy in life… I guess… sure. Take seven towels.
May you all seek joy this week, and know that new life is around the corner :).
This looks like a little crab. RIGHT? I found it in my kitchen sink the other day. And could have sworn it was a CRAB. But HOW did it get to my sink? Clearly it crawled up our pipes somehow. Eventually I figured out that it was not a crab but some kind of vegetable… that I never identified.. but I could have SWORN. It was a crab.
