Pain

Today I fell down the stairs in my theater class. The staircase is about six stairs that leads to a very short hall and a door to the outside. It's one of two areas used as a "backstage" in the rehearsal room.

Right now, my theater class is working on monologues. Personally, I would love to write a monologue for myself. Write on about the difficulties I've endured being transgender; the harassment; the constant pain. It would be quite the monologue. Unfortunately, for right now I will be presenting a monologue I've chosen from my teacher's collection.

I wanted to practice on stage with my monologue. As a nerd, I had to pick the one and only monologue from Star Trek. Clearly I'm the only one in my class who knows anything about Star Trek, so using the line "I want to kiss you in a pile of tribbles for the whole convention to see!" will be a bit strange. If you aren't familiar with what a tribble is, I encourage you to research it. You won't be disappointed.

Back to the point, I fell down the stairs. One minute I was walking, the next minute my body was being slammed into the floor. Both my shins, rammed into the staircase. My fist, sandwiched between the floor and my chest, causing further injury to myself. The burning sensation kicking in all over my body.

As much as it hurt, I quickly forced myself to stand up and work through the pain. No one assisted me. I practically insisted. A friend rushed to my aid, but I got myself up and took a seat. I played off the pain.

It hurt too much to continue with my monologue. The burning pain in my legs and chest clouded any thoughts about my monologue. I forced myself to drink some water, take deep breaths, and just try to focus on getting through the pain.

As a person who frequently falls up the stairs, I can assure you, there is quite a difference. Believe me, falling on the stairs, no matter the direction, sucks. You don't want to fall on the stairs at all. However, falling up the stairs seems to be less painful. There's less of an impact on the body. There isn't as much of a distance to fall.

I forced myself up so quickly from the fall that I barely had time to feel the pain from the fall. It didn't take long from the time I stood up for the pain to sink in with the burning. The swelling started almost immediately and I could already see the bruises.

As I sat and cleared my mind, I could feel the pain getting worse. It had been so long since I felt a pain like that, it almost made me feel more human. Having a lack of motivation and overall positive emotion, feeling such a pain was an instant reminder to the delicacy of being human.

While I still feel the pain with every step I take, each step serves as a reminder that I am human; I feel pain. My nerves react to stimuli. Physically, I am fragile. I can't just go throwing myself off staircases to feel more human. Keep in mind, this was an accident. I did not intentionally throw myself down the stairs in my classroom.

This was a short staircase, caused by pure clumsiness. However, I go up and down many flights of stairs during my day that are more than 10 steps. Some are metal with that plastic-rubber coating, while other are concrete with metal strips. Falling down those staircases would cause injuries far worse. Today I was very lucky that there were only about six stairs. I was also very lucky that I didn't hit my face on the doorknob. I was less than a foot away from it.

The doorknob was actually the only thought that crossed my mind as I was falling. Somehow, even when I didn't exactly realize I was falling yet, I worried about being too close to the doorknob and smashing my face into it. I didn't like that thought. Luckily that didn't happen today.

People were obviously very concerned when I told them I had fallen down the stairs. They either freaked out and asked if I was okay or told me that it sucked. My mom told me that being her child I should have fallen up the stairs, which I've done plenty of times already.

My injuries are far from severe. Theres some swelling and bruising. I've already taken Tylenol and Aleve, at different times. No one needs to worry about me overdosing on generic non-prescription pain relief medication.

Sitting here in the dark, writing this chapter, makes me feel better. Being able to talk about my emotions in a casual manner is very relieving. I don't get to see my therapist as much as I'd like to, so this book is almost like my way of being my own therapist. I don't expect anyone to read it, it's really something I'm writing for myself. I don't particularly care if people read it. If you're interested in the deep and personal emotions I really feel, then by all means, knock yourself out and give this a read. It won't change me if people do or don't read this. Like I said, this is more for myself than for anyone else.

It's about time I started working on my mental health again. My freshman year I put all my effort into trying to help people who only sucked the life out of me. My mental health was destroyed. Sophomore year I lost a lot of people who I thought were my friends and stressed over them too much. This year, my junior year, I'm finally putting myself as my number one priority. I'm not playing therapist for anyone else any more. It's time I started caring about the way I really feel.

The fewer mental breakdowns I have this year, the better.