A Laugh-Cry?

This morning, when I opened my eyes in bed, I texted my Mom and called her, as is the routine now. I turned on Sara Bareilles’ new album on Apple Music and began to mindlessly play solitaire on my phone as I waited for my Mom to get to my house to help me out of bed.

I enjoy the mellow sounds of this album and my mind drifted to memories that I’ve had in this house. Memories that seem like they’re from another lifetime. I tried to remember exactly how old these memories are but I couldn’t quite pin them down. Sean and I have lived in our house for about 10 years.

The memory that came to mind that I couldn’t escape from (maybe Sara had something to do with it) had to be about five or six years ago. I would usually awaken on Saturday mornings and get out of bed by myself, light some candles, shut the sliding door to my kitchen, and wash the dishes.

I usually would finish before Sean woke up. This memory was one of my favorite times in the house. I would sit in my, “Cooking chair” (a name I gave to my Amish stool (Like my Mom’s) with handles on the sides of the seat that swivels that I used to use in my second apartment to sit at the stove to make dinner) As the morning sunlight shone through the windows in my kitchen of my house, I used to listen to a lot of Gavin DeGraw back then. I enjoyed the sunlight and the quiet as I washed the dishes.

I no longer use that chair or even wash the dishes because with my motorized chair now, I can’t and my kitchen no longer has a sliding door because the doorway had to be widened to fit my wheelchair. My Mom opened the front door and came into my room. I paused the music.

Being transferred from my bed to my chair is when the real pain sets in. I usually sit and sip my Kiefer as I try to get, “normalized” to sitting up in my chair. I spend this time trying to get used to the pain I feel in my body and in my knee.

Once I was seated comfortably in my chair, I turned around and exited my bedroom. I stop my chair at the doorway of the bathroom and wait. My Mom will soap up a washcloth so that I can wash my hands. My wheelchair does not easily fit into the bathroom and I cannot use the kitchen sink.

She puts a towel on my lap to catch some of the drips as I soap up my hands, give her back the washcloth, and wait for her to give me back a rinsed washcloth. We complete this process usually about three or four times, until my hands feel thoroughly rinsed and I can dry them with the towel that is on my lap.

This morning however, because I had a clear memory of being able to get out of bed by myself and wash the dishes, tears started to stream down my face. There were a lot of tears quickly coming out of my eyes and streaming down my cheeks! I was startled that this was happening and started to chuckle at how dramatic and pathetic I was being!

My Mom rinsed the washcloth and gave me a puzzled look. She couldn’t understand why I was crying and at the same time, I was laughing! She asked me about my, “Laugh-cry.” I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. She knows that I can no longer control my emotions (PBA SUCKS!!!) but I told her that I was thinking of a memory that made me cry and I started to laugh at how silly I was being because I was crying. Hence, my laugh-cry.

I can’t believe that my life is so drastically different than it was just five years ago! Even less then three years ago when I was injured. Even less than one year ago when I got my motorized chair. Thinking about all of that today, I just cried but I have never laugh-cried before today and that puzzles me too.