Submitted by megan on Sat, 07/11/2009 - 11:26
There was that time I electrocuted myself.
The moment is gone. A missing few seconds between balancing on the chair with my fingers lined up along the ends of the fluorescent bulb, and then standing in the middle of the floor, arms loose by my sides, but still the bulb clutched safe in my hand.
I was slack-jawed staring when my co-worker came out of the back room.
Truth is, I was actually better than okay. My skin felt new, my brain felt rewired and sparking. I was thinking the most scintillating thoughts. Everything I touched vibrated its own particular thereness into me. I floated around for the next few hours feeling - and there is no other word for it - reborn.
Consciously, it was all gain and no pain. I should be sticking forks in outlets, pressing my tongue to the tops of 9 volt batteries. I should be raring to take down the light fixture in Mac's old room to paint the ceiling.
The drop cloths are laid down, the holes are patched and sanded. The supplies lined up neatly. Have been for a week. I always find something else to do.
Whatever happened in those few seconds, between on the chair and off, it terrified my lizard brain and we want no part of it at all.