Breakin'...

This word resonates with me for different reasons. There is of course my breakin’ body, as I’ve become disabled; my breakin’ heart, as I’ve lost a certain quality of life; my breakin’ back as I bust my proverbial balls to overcome paralysis. But if you’re like me, Breakin’ is of course a classic 1984 break dancing movie (which incidentally was Ice-T’s film debut.)

This afternoon, after stuffing myself with Korean BBQ, I was in the car rockin’ out to a totally rad song. I can still bop my head normally and pump my good fist in the air, but it occurred to me that I’ll never co-star in the remake of Breakin’. Sad, I know. Fancy shmancy foot work is probably not in the cards for me.

Neither are chopsticks. I married a man who is half Asian and I had already shamed him by not mastering chopsticks before my stroke. Today I sat in a Korean restaurant staring at my food realizing there is no way that chopsticks are in the cards for me either. I got to thinking, “Well shit. What else can I not have the pleasure of doing?” Here’s the rest of my list so far:

·         Calligraphy

·         Take my shoes off while standing up (can’t stand on one leg and remove shoe with other foot when one of them is paralyzed.)

·       Graffiti artist. I can barely hold a pen let alone a can of spray paint and push that little button down with my finger.

·       Stripper pole. Holding on with just one arm may be a safety hazard. And hopping on one leg may not be that sexy. (Then again it does involve hopping…)

·       Chorus line. Unless of course we’re going to kick with only one leg in one direction, but that may not work on an aesthetic level.

·       Balloon animal creator. Do I really need to explain that one?

As they say, “you always want what you can’t have.” When I look at this list what really stands out is that I probably would not have ever done most of these things even if I hadn’t had a stroke. I admit it’s a bit annoying to have them taken from me anyhow. I have moments where the reality that I can't do everything I put my mind to bugs the crap out of me. Not so much because I can't do nor will ever do many things, but because I don't want to feel like maybe I didn't make the most of my abled body while I had it. 

Regret is poison. I don't dwell on it, but it does come in small bursts like today while rockin' out in the car. As I fantasize about leaning on a stripper pole, standing on one leg, doing a high kick with the other while I twist a balloon into a wiener dog and spray paint my name across its ass, I have to make peace with the fact that Breakin’ will probably be remade without me. Head spinning is not in my future. But pop locking…well now hey, pop locking might be doable.