Whiplash

I know I shouldn’t be sat in bed, slouching whilst writing. Two days ago I was told by a chiropractor that my neck looks as if I’d been in a car crash. Because of it I’ve felt a pendulum swaying back and forth through my entire body for eight months. I’ll sit up straight and prop my laptop up on a some books. Since he cracked my neck and spine I still feel it, just a faint sway though, nothing like it’s been for the last couple of months.

There’s a cheeky indian myna bird hopping about on the fence outside, looking at me through the window. I’m a bit frayed, I suppose I drank a fair amount last night. The sky is bright white today, it’s making the back of my eyes ache. I was convinced I was losing my eye site three days ago. I had blurry, flashy vision. I’ve been imagining what it would be like to go blind.

It’s winter in Australia. The little electric heater is on, even though it’s expensive to run I don’t give a shit, but I should. During the last six months I haven’t been able to work much. I’ve taken a few drips and drags of copywriting, artist management, one modelling job that a friend got me. In fact all the jobs I got were through the kindness of my friends.


The friendships I’ve found here have been real and grounding, more real than I’ve let any be for years. I know what the different is, of course. During the last six months I’ve given people attention. I’ve written back. I haven’t talked about work, because I’ve had none. I said yes a lot more. I’ve turned up. I’ve been honest about feeling broken and useless. I’ve laughed about my unemployment, earning the title Lady of Leisure or lol for short. Maybe i’m learning to be myself again.

I burnout ten months ago, then one night I woke up from a huge jolt of the bed. The apartment was swaying, shaking, crumbling, I could hear my neighbour’s screams and tears. I’d never experienced an earthquake before. All Luke and I could do was hold onto each other. I think I became hypersensitive and internalised the aftershocks. Whatever happened I traumatised my upper spine and nervous system, particularly the area related to the balance and vision.

Before I saw my spinal x-rays I didn’t have an answer for the vertigo, I’d lost control. I took time off to remedy the panic attacks and anxiety, hoping a slower state of mind would help me find my stillness again. Saying all that, life has been more beautiful over the last eight months. I mean beautiful. My eyes and ears have been working abnormally. I started taking photographs again because of it. I’ve also been singing, crying, laughing, writing music and feeling a lot more.

I’ll write more about it another time.

The light shining through the bedroom window