prying open the brain-pan

I am being an utter wuss about getting back on the bicycle. (Or as I usually phrase it, "I'm being a girl.")

I told the_axel that if I had been riding for six months by the time I feel off instead of only my third time out, I would have been fine. Which is true. And that if I can ride it for six months before the second time I fall off, I'll be fine. Also true.

But right now I'm nervous and the roads are slippery and if I fall off again before I get over being nervous I might as well sell the damn thing, because I'll likely never get on it again. And that's not like me. I'm not normally afraid of getting hurt by anything.

So I was thinking about it today and I just happened to rub my nose the wrong way, and then I realized what my damn fool problem is, it's because I fell on my stupid face. There has only been one time I've ever had a broken nose before, and the whole thing has brought up all the old unspoken associations with getting punched in the face.

If I'd broken my arm it would never have spooked me this much. If I'd landed on the back of my head I'd be fine.

Oh, for the love of fuck.

OK, so I can't chose the ways in which I am screwed up. But I can chose to curse and spit and picture myself smacking people with bats and then do what I want to do anyway.

observe

LJ icons of one's breasts is the new black