numb

I dreamed, last night, that we were driving down the freeway, grossly exceeding the speed limit.  There was a dip in the road.  No, it wasn’t a dip, it was a drop, almost sheer, and we went hurtling over the edge.  The car was flipping over, and suddenly I was flying through the air, thrown from the vehicle, and I came crashing down, knees and palms striking the ground.  Broken.  Unable to move.  All I could think was, “this doesn’t hurt as much as it should.”

If I’m so broken, why doesn’t it hurt more?

It does hurt. 

I am mostly functional, and that’s the problem.  I continue to get out of bed, go to work and school.  I clean the house, walk the dog, feed the cats.  I do all of these things.  In my mind, functional = healthy.  And it’s not just me.  No doctor or shrink would take me seriously because I’m not “sick.”  I’m not in enough pain.

I’m numb.

Someone gave me a local anesthetic and now, even though I am holding my guts in with my hands and bleeding on everything, I continue to stumble along my path.