Christine Lukasik

The Heart is What Remains

Stunning Alexandra Roxo piece "The heart is what remains" - front window of Free Sheep Foundation space 3rdAve/Seattle.

Stupid & weird but also belated new year reflection

 

patio lights at Oddfellows, Capitol Hill.  shot yesterday through window with interior lights reflecting.

Yesterday, as Shelley said about 2/3^rd of the way through, was “stupid and weird”.

Morning surgery appointment to get the pin removed from my finger. Took an XRay and decided that the knuckle is still in too many pieces to remove the pin so it’s in for another month. Mega disappointing as it’s, well, annoying/painful and I have a barbell certification with Mark Rippetoe in a month that I want to be ready and healthy for. Removal now scheduled for mere days prior to the cert. Yes, I want it to heal properly but ARRGGH. My body is such a terrible healer. Really. I get infected and/or complications from everything. I’m the least healthy healthy person I know. Must be borne. Moving on.

Quick lunch at Oddfellows in Cap Hill was a lovely respite.

Next up in stupid weird day: steroid cortisone shot/epidural for major back failure this week. Back has been degrading recently – doctor has been unable to budge the areas where the herniated discs are for a few weeks and Michael has noticed that my movement has been more limited lately during training even though my back muscles are really strong now thanks to his awesome programming. I had to be driven from the appointment on account of the epidural so Shelley just drove me around all day and thankfully was able to come into the room during the shot and hold my hand. This one was much less scary than the last one prolly as I knew what to expect, this doc had his game dialed TIGHT, and Shelley was there to hold my hand and talk to me to keep me calm. It’s not massively painful but I get a bit panicky ‘cause it’s a spot into my SPINAL COLUMN and important stuff goes on in there. My body goes into FULL fight or flight defense mode (as well it should) and my breath starts getting shallow and quick. Problem with that is movement in the abdomen – which needs to be stable because of the needle going into my spinal column to deliver the meds! Was all good this time and over much more quickly and easily than I expected. I crashed out at home on the floor watching Helvetica and High Fidelity and even got a little sleep around the steroid flush. Feeling much better today.

Thankful as ever for Shelley. She’s the best friend I could never think to ask for.  It’s taken me my entire life up until now to learn how to let her in, to let her SEE me in all my raw EVERYTHING and to believe, really believe, that no matter what part of me she sees she continues to love and support me. She gives me POSITIVE feedback when I’m pouting and crying and being a basket-case. I don’t have to put on any face for her, ever. This year has been such an amazing learning experience in starting to actually let show on the outside some of the things that are going on inside. I’ve learned that not only is it OK, but also that people still like me and the biggest shock of all – actually like/love me MORE because I have opened up a bit and let them in. That’s EXACTLY the opposite of what I thought would happen. Turns out hiding that shit actually blocks people from being able to engage with you. I thought I was supposed to put on a happy face whenever possible. Thing is I’m not very good at doing that so I always just look pissed off/mean/determined/cold – I’m not – but that’s what shows when I’m trying like crazy to control whatever difficult stuff is going on inside.  There’s been so much this last year that even I haven’t been strong enough to keep it all inside. It’s oozed out in awkward ways, in awkward places and times.

Shelley, Carrie, and Michael have all witnessed it countless times this year and have loved me and supported me through all – have celebrated and been wild & happy, calm & peaceful or whatever with me during those times, too. Turns out that’s how it’s supposed to work.  The more it happens the closer we get and the longer the list of people gets.

May you all be so lucky to have at least one person in your life who is with you like that.  My cup runneth over.

were you here? when?

 

The view out one of my windows at the Ritz at Half Moon Bay - these duffers made me think of my dad. I wonder if he played this course, putted this hole, with this view. He spent a ton of time in the area and was always golfing. The first business trip he ever took me on with him was to San Fran then on to Palo Alto (hoping to inspire me to work hard enough to get into Stanford) so I always feel close to him when I travel there. Watching these men, probably dads, in this moment in this lovely light - since my dad died on a course - was particularly poignant.