these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Jun 12, 2014

"on a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain are you in?"


ohhhhh... i'd say about 7. 

feeling a bit like Frida today.  and not in a good way.  i spent the majority of yesterday laying on ice in bed, hoping to stop the pain roller-coaster before it really got moving...  but atlas.  my iffy disk is a cruel sadist.  i'll definitely need to go to the doctor later today.  or the ER.  whichever entity will see me and give me muscle relaxers.  then, i'm going  to spend the next several days laying flat on my back, stuck like a turtle, and trying to maintain a positive outlook on this shit.  i'll watch the movie Frida and be reminded that, for however big my pain is, it is nothing compared to hers.  i don't need to be wrapped in a cast or held in traction.  this time around, i was standing on one foot in my bedroom, pulling a shoe off my foot.  a fucking lightening bolt of pain ran through my body and literally brought me to my knees.  i stayed there on the floor for several minutes, shocked by the level of pain that i'd just experienced, shocked that such an innocent act had brought it on, and silently begging Fate not to put me in bed for a month.  currently, i can hardly walk but that's not really an accurate barometer of how badly i;m hurt.  i could be back to normal in just a few days so long as i go to the doctor.  i've learned now just to go.  don't be proud, take the drugs, and stay in bed.  it sucks.  i don't want to be that person.  i don't want to be seen as fragile. i'm not fucking fragile and i don't need to be handled with extreme care.  this shit rears up from time to time and it takes me out of the game for a week or two but i am not some fragile girl who needs to tip toe around.  i'm not going to ever be that girl.  i'm not going to be someone who lives in fear of tripping on a crack in the sidewalk.  today, something as simple as that could in fact take me out in a major way.  that's the truth.  i can hardly move right now.  but i'm not going to live in fear of it.  i need to get to the bottom of this and find a long-term solution.  the idea of surgery scares the shit out of me.  my father is a quadriplegic and the idea of someone cutting open my back and scooting my spinal column to the side so they can clip the end of my sciatic nerve is a horribly scary idea.  i'm not even sure i'm a candidate for it.  i need to have an MRI and find out what's really going on inside my body.  

things change in an instant, guys.  these moments always remind me of the fact that if there's something you really want to do in life, better find a way to do it.  i was pulling my fucking shoe off.  i wasn't being a daredevil to any degree.  you can be going along just fine, feeling invincible and like you've got all the time in the world to waste on bullshit...  then a tiny little thing sweeps in and changes the score entirely.  in these moments, i'm so thankful that i created opportunities for travel in my life.  i'm thankful that i have this laptop so i can write and reach out.  i'm thankful for every moment of friendship, every opportunity i've taken to dance and laugh.  

the above image is of me last march finishing the Blanket of DOOM when i slipped a disk and was locked in bed for a solid month. 

even these moments are good teachers.
even these moments have led to beauty.
these moments, more than others, lead me straight to art.

i'll try to remind myself of all this later when i'm crying to myself about how unfair this shit is.



james said...

after being jerked around for nearly a year by the local pain clinic, i learned that my sciatica was coming from a worn out hip joint. replaced the joint, and i haven't had any pain since. make sure they xray hip and knee. i know what you are going through, but we all face things differently, and from different causes. good luck.

angela simione said...

thank you, james. it is a rough road; one which poeple tend not to understand unless they've suffered this pain aswell. mine is pretty much debilitating. the good news is that the doctor at the ER didn't make jump through many hoops at all and was very concerned that i've had two bouts of this in 6 months. a new road of exploration will soon commence. i need to find out exactly what the issue is so that i can do whatever necessary to correct it. i've got too much traveling to do and too much art to make to be sidelined like this so often.

james said...

following my 1st attack, some years ago, i could not walk or rise from bed normally; had to crawl everywhere on all fours. then i discovered naproxen, which did wonders for a while, until gout raised its head and everything tumbled over again. i do have low back pain now, but nothing as severe as before. your courage is larger than mine, though: i don't think i could immerse myself in frida. one good thing about your own pain is that it seems to alleviate for a while before launching a new attack. i suppose we must be grateful for relief, any relief, and just pray that it lasts. james