carnot_engine

A bicycle. 1500 a month. 350+ a week.

Of course. I remember one night in winter 2011 when I tested the height of a doorknob with bathrobe sash around my neck. It was hard, the first year, knowing I was broken in a way that would never heal, never improve, and never disappear. Being unable to turn your head is a weird thing - the social cues are confusing to people, and it makes dating awkward. But I had good friends who helped me realize I could survive.

Honestly, I kept going because I had no choice. I couldn't stop working; I had bills, student loans, a job. I couldn't abandon my life and live on disability, and suicide is really difficult (I'd tried years prior). I suppose the feeling that you're forced to be alive is worse than wanting to die, because you have no way out.

The body's capacity for adaption is remarkable. All of the vertebrae below C3 are hypermobile in my neck, so I can sort of turn my head in a downward arc. I actually use my shoulders most of the time. I can't drive because moving my shoulders to look around would endanger my ability to steer, but on a bike, I can stay largely stationary. I just pivot my entire torso to look around. It's kinda like doing Down Dog, and probably looks really odd to people.

Also, years of riding in heavy city traffic (Boston, MA, US) has really honed my situational awareness.

I have Bachelor's of Fine Arts in creative writing. Poetry. (HA!)

Like I said. I have a problem.