This time I was riding my unicycle. It’s not a really high one, but I fell off it anyway and in a spectacular heap on the concrete at work in front of a crowd. But that is the reason anxiety woman has a unicycle, to confront humiliation and injury with a laugh and a scab. It was only the next day that I realized I had done something to my rib, on the opposite side. This was probably the result of me panicking, torqueing my body so that I did not impact just one bone but spread the misery to many. Now I can breathe but I can not sneeze or fart without a little Brutus reminding me of my folly.
I haven’t been writing lately because of my obsession with the unicycle. According to the internet it take 10 hours to establish some agility with the beast. Being just over 55 I might have allowed a few more hours. I took unicycle classes in my 30’s and thought it might come back to me quicker but I was wrong. I also willed myself to disaster by volunteering to unicycle for clown day at work knowing I had only a month to prepare. I did manage to stilt walk through the nursing home with only a little hesitation getting in and off the elevator.
Was I anxious? Yes! Did I die? No! Did I injure myself just like the nurses feared? Yes I did, but they did not have to tend to me because I hid it rather well and then self diagnosed on the internet rather than let them lord it over me. I have been treating myself with naps, ibuprofen, reduced exercise and plenty of sugary sweets. I also bought the Sunday New York Times.
Meanwhile Anchorage is green and breezy. There is a moose down the street lazily munching in the brush where I think the neighbors secretly planted marijuana. Some crazy desperate couple robbed all the mailboxes on the street today. Do I care? I have no checks coming in the mail. I also have no idea what I am doing with my life so I am keeping it simple. Eat, sleep, go to work, get outside, throw things away, talk to friends. The trouble is I am always looking for some purpose or adulation to shore me up until the next event like a trip or a show to perform in. All my friends who are in relationships are perhaps not regularly nourished with daily love snacks but not having a loved one at home, I have become a forager. The emotional dumpster diver, I stink of the fear of rejection.
Tomorrow I will go to work and beg off going to the fancy cocktail celebration I invited myself to. Both my co-workers were going but I had not been invited so I volunteered my presence. Why would anyone invite themselves to a work event that they didn’t have to attend? I guess I wanted to be invited and this seemed like the next best thing instead of what I now see is the world’s worst idea.
It would have been much easier to fly off the unicycle and crunch a rib by myself than in front of a crowd at work. This kind of stunt doesn’t earn one an invite to a evening dress party. Instead I can be an invisible presence at the party. Not one of the movers and shakers but someone who can be talked about for their faux pas! People can notice I am not there or better yet I could celebrate not looking for their approval by having my own cocktail party wearing a fleece and shorts. I had a cocktail the other night at a lovely wedding reception and felt so adult for a minute and a half. I was wearing a fleece, the informal uniform of all Alaskans. I was not the only one. There was one other woman , ( single), drinking a cocktail and one man who was wearing a fleece. I am not alone in my desire for comfort and belonging. Fleece is also easier to clean than silk after climbing out of the emotional dumpster.
So instead of going to the party I will have some cold milk soup with raisins in it. That makes my roommates laugh. We threw away all the old roommates food and everything that had expired in the fridge so cold milk soup with flakes and raisins it is. I will eventually post of photo of me on the unicycle as I am still planning on riding it in the 4th of July parade! Either that or a photo of me with a cast, wearing a cone of shame.