You Don't Have to Go Down the Rabbit Hole

As little tics of pain and discomfort pop up here and there in my arm or leg, I think about the miraculousness of the body's healing process.  These little blips of physical sensation remind me that while I eat, talk, read, do my exercises, even take a shower,  the cells of my body are knitting themselves together, growing and stretching as nature dictates.  An amazing unfolding that we cannot see, a cause for joy, really.  There is so little we control....  and no cause for dismay.
It is a grey day in the family room here at K's, the soft black and white dog stretches out on one couch, T reads on another, and I pull myself up from reclining to create an illusion of elongating my body.  This restlessness that I feel reminds me of our residents in hospice who are in the throes of dying, and at the same time trying to escape their physical bodies.  Is this a mental or physical phenomenon, I wonder?  I don't sense a message from brain to body exactly, but more an internal movement, as though pure energy needs to push from the very inside out, stretching, trying to find more space and repose.
We dined out last night at a local restaurant, and for a few hours I almost forgot that I was disabled.  Shows you what a good meal - sand-dabs no less - and a couple of glasses of wine will do!  And already in that comfortable state I had forgotten an earlier moment of frustration and dismay, where I felt treated in an unexpected and dismissive way.   My "story" about that earlier moment placed me front and center in the role of victim, and there I sat licking my imaginary wounds.  Displaced anger seems to be arising in me, along with a bottomless neediness. Yes, I am really angry at that woman who mowed me down on June 15.  Having admitted this, then what?   Where to go with it?  As for the neediness, it looks like the rabbit hole that Alice fell into -- all too familiar...  Unfortunately that normal anger at the heedless driver is compounded by my own nasty feelings about myself and all my inadequacies.  And there I am back in self-loathing, that dark realm I thought I had escaped after a month of sitting at Spirit Rock!  There is no escape, is there?  Does the fact of being a human being inevitably include being that unkind- to -self human who can't progress fast enough, who can't always say the politic thing, who can't stop whining to herself about her unpleasant state?
I think I will do some exercises for my arm, and approach my body with some kindness.  That ought to help with some of this emotional mire I've been traveling through.   Staying in this moment, with this arm, just now.  Breathe, and let the heart slowly open.