Kiss Today Goodbye...: Clockwise / Counterclockwise

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In the ICU for ten days after my near-fatal automobile accident in 1991, it was an ongoing, touch-and-go battle to survive the damage I'd done to myself. From the moment I'd awakened after the first night in the ER, fighting against the restraints that had anchored my wrists to the sides of the bed (and not understanding they were there for my own safety - so that I would not break my own nose as I came out of anesthesia), I had been struggling to gain physical equilibrium and to simply heal and survive.

As the deeper, more damaging complications from the wreck revealed themselves and my condition began to spiral steeply downward, I spent the ensuing days and nights full of tubes and surrounded with machinery; at moments, barely hanging on. As word of what had happened and my precarious physical situation leaked out, friends from near and far showed up to encourage me in the brief, 5-minute visits each was allowed; encouraging me Hang On, to be true to myself and pursue what we knew I am good at doing.

"Dump this Movie Thing...!" "Do the Live Stuff you do so well!" "Hang On...and get out of here!"

There came a night, then another, when I literally had nothing left. No more strength to fight, no more will to exert, no more energy to push against the dark and finite exhaustion that seemed to be pushing at and toward; overwhelming me as it grew, looming on the edges of my consciousness. My self-awareness was crystal-clear; I knew there was nothing left. It was at that moment that the strangest phenomenon occurred.

I had turned to my mother and calmly whispered - "I don't think I'm going to make it...I think tonight might be it, Mom. I just don't have anything left." I wasn't scared, and was calm and collected. I fully felt - I knew - that I had nothing left with which to resist, and was accepting that I'd done all I could do. I felt my only remaining choice was to let go.

Then... It was as though all the remaining, residual energy that was scattered in tiny pockets throughout my being took on a collective mind of its own. It felt like my body then took from my depleted hands control of the Will to Live and was gathering itself in what I can only characterize as the resolute formation of an invisible, steel-like, psychic and very real monofilament stretching from the inside of my skull, extended down through my line of chakras to my feet ... anchoring me to Life.

I could feel it, tightening inside me. The Thread of Life?

My body was not going to let me go. It did not release me. On its own, it fought and pulled me through as my consciousness relinquished control and could only observe this phenomenon taking place. Spiritual? This was a powerful experience; revealing the edges of a secret and a power that we may not know we have. I certainly didn't know it. I was startled and wondrous, and could only ride this wave.

Two nights later, my health turned around and I began to heal.

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Metaphorically, I sense I am now near an analogous point; a moment where I have nothing left, and this time I don't know that some superhuman, internal strength is going to materialize and pull me through. While the effects on me are deeply internal; the forces that exert and elicit the responses and reactions I am experiencing are external, and I have no control over them.

I am becoming worn down from moving from place to place, sometimes day after day. The gathering up of clothes and books and carrying them to the next temporary shelter is beginning to take a hefty toll. Constantly taking inventory: where is my toothbrush, did I bring my razor or is it downtown, what clothes are where and what clothes will I need, tomorrow, do I have enough of my prescriptions...? It is pulling my mind in myriad, distracting directions, and I see no end to it. No end.

The only place things work out in precisely the way we want is in fiction. Only then might we have complete control. My Story of taking an hourly job as I seek work at my level is not coming true; the problem being that I am either seen as overqualified, too old (yikes!) or such an obvious short-timer that it would not serve an establishment to bring me on, knowing I am likely to depart when I find what I want. Starbuck's, American Apparel, Banana Republic...their stories aren't incorporating mine as I'd envisioned. This affects prospects for Security.

A dear friend has loaned me his apartment in Hell's Kitchen while he is in Italy, 'til Tuesday; it's a good thing. I have been startled to discover that, two mornings, this week, I have been unable to get myself out of bed before early afternoon; then, only because I had obligations that required me to go to another part of town in order to make a call or take care of something imperative. Those who know me well, know that I am usually up around 5:30am. This is not a Good Sign, I know. I simply seem to be making no headway.

I wrestle with - and have been advised against - articulating and exploring these experiences here, in this context. I have considered withholding this information from my writing, keeping this aspect of my inner conversation from this blog; on the other hand, though, I am already in it... For me to begin withholding the truth, now, would render inauthentic what I write.

Thus, I believe the honesty and candor ought prevail.

I know that I am not alone in this experience, nor in my physical, mental and psychological responses to it. There must be thousands of remarkably talented and skilled individuals as bewildered and bemused as am I; with psyche's affected this profoundly. Though, even now, my heart goes out to these others; this realization has absolutely no comforting element for me. Nor, I am sure, for anyone else experiencing similar.

As with my 1991 car accident, I accept that I have done this to myself. There is no one else to blame. Had I held The Australian to accepted, standard, professional business practices, I would very likely not now be in this position. But, I trusted a man's word and his handshake, and this is what I got. I did it to myself.

WTF.

The low point of this week has been the imminent cancellation of my Health Insurance. That's gonna cause me some trouble...

That refrigerator box in Central Park is looking like more of a real possibility; but at least, as my personality disorders surface, this impending situation will be contextually appropriate. No passer-by will be surprised that That Weird Guy Talking to Himself is living in a box.

The surprise of the week was that the IRS has been exceptionally NICE to me! Truly cooperative and communicative, they are being. That was a call I'd feared making that turned out quite well...at least, for now.

I have committed to some extensive volunteer work on a project within my industry sphere; a good application of my background, skills and talents in a place where such assets are currently needed. While this is a good, creative outlet; it will not support me.

I don't know what's next... I simply do not know.