pain

failed experiments

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

Describe Your First Brush with Danger

When I was just a youngin’, maybe five years old, I remember sitting on the kitchen counter on a bright summer afternoon. My mom was nearby, but engrossed in something other than her overly curious (and in this moment, stupid) daughter.

As I sat there, I noticed a black stapler resting innocently beside me. And I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “I wonder what would happen if I stapled my finger…”

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind did I pick up the stapler with my chubby right hand, slipped my left thumb underneath its arm and proceeded to press all my weight down on it.

After hearing it snap, I lifted my newly decorated thumb up to my face to examine it. The thin line of silver went perfectly down the middle and dark, thick blood quickly began pouring out of it on both sides. It was at that moment the pain suddenly struck me and I began wailing.

My mother immediately took notice and tended to my stapled thumb, trying to calm me down and comfort me at the same time.

She may or may not have asked me why I stapled my finger. But if she did, I’m fairly certain my distressed five-year-old self was not able to articulate that clearly.

So Mom, if you’re reading this, I just wanted to know what it felt like. It’s a pain I’ve never forgotten still to this day.

And you know what I learned? Sometimes it’s just better not to know.

love heals all wounds

Image ~ ~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

The worst part is never when something terrible happens. It’s the first time you wake up afterwards.

After my heart broke, I cried until my body ran out of tears, literally dried up my emotional well. And then I sat in my bed, knees clutched to my chest, eyes open wide – staring at nothing – and rocked. Back and forth. For hours.

I suppose at some point my conscious numbness conceded to my body and I fell asleep.

It’s waking up that’s the worst. The moment you think maybe that was just a dream, then slowly process that it wasn’t. And the realization is stabbing. And choking. As if someone is taking your insides and wringing them out like a washcloth.

But on that morning, when I woke up in my college apartment, the walls were covered with words. Words of hope. Quotes I loved. My sweet roommate snuck into my room before I woke up and filled that place of sadness with kindness and friendship and concern.

I don’t remember all of them, but I remember the largest, written in bright green across the middle of my mirror.

This too shall pass.

And despite my bloodshot eyes and knotted stomach and heavy heart, I could not help but smile.

(Image source: Modern Hepburn on Tumblr)