These Feet o' Mine

... they were meant for walking, only I can't do much of that; I can barely walk most of the time - due to my "faulty" spine. 

December 17, 2004, I had a fall that had rendered wearing shoes impossible. It hurt... A lot and had to ask someone, who put the shoes on my feet, to just rip them off because it was so terribly painful.

Yesterday was one of the first days that I was able to wear shoes! It was a memorable moment just by the fact I could wear shoes (not sandals) and not have the shoes feel like my feet were entrapped in a torture chamber.

I was at a doctor appointment; I see her for pain management as also for AS.

I was venting about something, related to a neurology appointment gone terribly wrong, and was so upset - a week after that neuro. appointment. Suddenly, I found myself smiling. I didn't hear a word the doctor was saying, until she asked me a question. I had to ask her to please repeat the question and told her that I was distracted... and by what?

I spotted a tiny chair nestled near a corner. There sat two little brown Teddy bears. Across their lap was a soft blanket. It was a cold outside and I just thought, the little bears had warmth and comfort. A little boy had placed the blanket over the bears' legs, she told me. I thought, that was just the sweetest thing.

After she told me how the bears ended up with the blanket coating them in warmth, we resumed the "talk" about my frustrations and discouraging feelings following the neuro. apppointment. But... somehow, someplace during that discussion, my brain was wrapped in its own thoughts: My shoes. I was mesmerized by my shoes, their engineering or shape and form. My shoes held my undivided attention.

Something brought my mind back to the realm of the present and I apologized. I said, "I don't know why I find my shoes so fascinating."

Today, I thought of why so I possibly did: As a child, I always stared at my shoes. I would not look at people. I loved my shoes... plaid pattern and little rubber bumpers or toe stop effects. They were MY shoes. I would even sleep with those little shoes laced to my feet. They offered security... because I knew they were mine. The rest of the world didn't belong to me, and was as foreign to me as forging friendships. But, the constant: I had my shoes, my soul/sole mates.

I trusted that my shoes would be there, no matter what else, no matter the other fears or disappointments. I could stare at my shoes and they didn't "see" me. There was safety in objects and not being judged. I could risk looking at them and feeling safe.

My feat: Finding that comfort zone. I'm home!