Last week I pulled my groin doing relaxation exercises. How utterly lame is that? Besides having kids or breaking my ankle in the kitchen, a pulled groin is about as close to an athletic injury as I’ve come. This kind of intense, movement limiting pain has a big effect on my ability to stay balanced. How in the world do people with chronic pain do it? Pretty sure I’d be addicted to pain killers and mood stabilizers before long.
This week is midterms at school. This is the first year I’ve been a full-time student and I thought I was managing pretty well, in spite of things. But after limping to drawing class on my screaming pulled groin, struggling to get the nude’s head proportional to her body, comparing myself ruthlessly against far younger, far more talented students and my prof’s head disappearing into the aura of an ocular migraine, I had a little midterm meltdown. So I ditched class and sat in my car, seat reclined, feet out the open window with my mascara running down my cheeks. Ahh, student life.
And yet here I am this morning, fueled by coffee and irrationality, forgetting all that. Instead I’m thinking about adding another two classes and plotting how in the world I can get to art school in Florence. Every morning my Facebook feed taunts me with classes abroad in fresco painting, conservation & restoration, writing. I’m imagining myself young and untouched by life, an art & history student at a Florentine school housed in an ancient palazzo, years stretching boundlessly ahead. Sigh. Why is so hard to be settled where we are? Why am I stalled studying Ancient Greece when I want to be studying the Renaissance? Why is it so damn hard to get head size right? Where is my mood stabilizer?!
This is probably the point to remember to breathe… 2,3,4. Let me share my pain and leave you with this picture of the Palazzo dei Cartelloni, the building that houses the SACI art school in Florence. We can cry together.