The Truth Board

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The Truth About the Fact: An International Journal of Literary Nonfiction

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The Truth About the Fact: A Journal of Literary Nonfiction is an international journal committed to the idea that excellence in the art of letters can play a vital role in transforming the planet we share.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Cold feet

I have this sensation; it’s the same feeling I get when I stick my feet into freezing water but don’t remove them. It’s not the initial shock of the cold, or the ironic burning that surges through my toes and into my ankles that follows. Instead it’s this weird sensation that happens in my chest. Maybe some nerves are reacting in my body, or maybe I have messed up synapses in my brain, but this nervous and kind of uncomfortable ticklish feeling hits one part of my chest. It’s always localized, almost like the cold zaps me right below my left clavicle. I get this feeling in two situations, when I am doing ice-baths for my feet and when I feel like something isn’t right or ends wrongly. I can’t really describe the situation but I would say it’s the closest thing to a physical encapsulation of foreboding, but not quite so heavy in terms of why I feel apprehension.

In truth I mostly feel this feeling in relation to other people, and not so much as a reflection of how I feel about myself. Maybe it’s empathetic embarrassment? I’m not sure, but it’s almost like something in my body is telling me… what’s going on? Why did they say that? What does this mean? It’s as if there’s a physical sign for something that doesn’t sit well, but instead of stress migraines or stomachaches I get phantom chest feelings. If I were being poetic I would say my heart is telling me something, sending me signals saying “AHHHHH! AHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK!!?!” (My hearts got a bit of a sailor’s mouth) But part of me knows that I probably am having a chemical reaction to an outside stimulus that makes my brain think in a certain pattern that recalls those cold cold waters. My fake science aside, when these little flutters/panics occur, I always take stalk of what happened. What did the conversation consist of? Where (if possible to find) did my feeling first start dully rising below my collarbone? I go through methodically almost like a list, checking off parts of the conversation that felt “right”. Then I hit a speed bump. A disagreement? No, not really. An insult? Not from what I can tell. Something weird? Maybe. I realize in frustration that there’s not a specific moment I can pinpoint about why I feel this awkward sensation. I want to know. I wrack my brain for the exact feeling, the exact moment, the words. I find some of the words, but no other answers.

I feel uncomfortable as I entertain the idea that perhaps there aren’t answers to my questions, because there really isn’t a concrete instance. Maybe, I just know something isn’t going well. I sit there, wondering. science? Chemicals? Or something else? Who knows but now all I can think about is how cold my feet are in the snowboarding socks I am wearing and the health benefits of icing ones feet.


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