Monday, February 10, 2014

my kitchen mishap {and how to face resistance}

On Thursday I wrote 3000 words in less than two hours.

I think it's the beginning of a book I didn't plan to write.

As I leaned back in my chair and exhaled a long satisfied breath, a smile crossed my face and a realization crossed my mind.  I crouched back over the keyboard and typed this status update on Facebook...


And then the fear crept in.  

I felt the full weight of what I was now carrying mixed with my uncertainty as to whether or not I was strong enough to move it forward...little ole me.

In an instant I knew what I had to do...give it everything I've got.

I could hardly wait to get my fingers back on the keyboard Friday night, but...something happened. 

The trouble began when I got into a little battle with the most dangerous kitchen utensil ever a mandoline, while making dinner.  With one slight slip of the hand I left a gigantic chunk of my palm mixed in with a pile of perfectly cut sweet potatoes {sorry...that may have been too graphic for some of you}.
{please note I was using the insert with all the big sharp teeth-like razors poking up}
It was bad y'all.

I don't really have a major issue with blood and all that jazz but this little booger wouldn't stop bleeding.  I think I instinctively yelled out a 'grown up' word {oops} but the kids didn't seem to notice.  It wasn't until I ran my hand under water and released what could only be described as a primal scream that they both walked over and asked - what happened, mommy?

I sent Lucy up for the first aid kit.  
I'm here to tell you...if you have an emergency you will want a Lucy around.  This girl is a rockstar in a crisis.  I'm sorry to say this isn't the first time she has had to come to the rescue of her careless-in-the-kitchen mama.  There was the time I stabbed a knife straight through an avocado and into my hand and then...sorry...I'm really losing some of you now.

Anyway, my mini paramedic pulled out the gauze and tape and antibiotic cream and fixed me all up.  I'm not kidding.
I couldn't get the bleeding to stop so I just had her squirt the cream on top and help me wrap the gauze and tape as tight as we could around it.

It hurt like heck but the bleeding seemed to stop and I started to feel better...
until I started to feel worse...

I have this little problem with syncope.  
You may not know what 'syncope' is but the fact that I do is evidence that I have quite a lot of experience with it.  
In other words - I pass out a lot.  
I have low blood pressure and this vaso-vagal response thing that happens when I am at high altitudes or experience trauma and well...it started to happen...right there in the kitchen on Friday night.

The kids were already back to doing their thing in the other room so I slid myself down onto the floor and focused on my breathing.  The little twinkly dots started moving into my peripheral vision {which is always a bad sign} and then the cold sweats started {also a bad sign} so I called Joey hoping he was close to home.
He was almost an hour away.

Breathe.  Breathe.

I was still trying to beat it.  But I finally conceded that it might be a good idea for him to call a neighbor.

That's the last thing I remember until I woke up with the cold, hard, floor under my cheek.  I could hear Lucy asking if I was okay but I couldn't open my eyes or push the words from my lips.  Eventually my mouth at least started to cooperate and I told her to go next door and get our neighbor. Bless her little five-year-old heart, she went running out in her pj's and bare feet and brought my neighbor back with her.  

I will spare you all the other details {like the part when Lucy brought a pair of my undergarments downstairs and tossed them on the floor in front of my neighbor's husband...nice...and don't ask why she would think I would need a new pair...oh man...this is turning into an exercise in humility}. 
Bottom line...I'm fine.  
Still hurts...but I'm fine.

At some point yesterday as I felt the pain pulsing through my hand {which, by the way, is a particularly important body part when it comes to typing words} I was reminded of this...

anything really worth doing will be met with resistance.  

Whether it's the resistance from within {that fills my mind with fear, doubt, insecurity}
or the resistance from an outside force {that tries to hold me down with a little blood and head injury}...
we all face resistance...

...and it usually means we're on to something good.

So I'm writing through the resistance...because if I don't fight for these words to be heard, who will?

Are you facing resistance today?  Maybe it's an indication that you're on to something good.

To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit.  It stunts us and makes us less than we are and were born to be.  
Steven Pressfield {The War of Art}