twenty-nine: fist

beware, free associations abound (in the order in which they arose):

  • the notion of giving fist bumps to someone – which my daughter used to call ‘spist bumps’ for some adorable reason. sigh. i miss her various and sundry mispronunciations
  • when i once disclosed in a text to my therapist that i was so incredibly furious i wanted to punch something, she wrote back, very methodically detailing the safest way to make a fist and to hit something…including instructions to minimize hurting my hand. i remember the rage dissipating as i read it, and i dissolved into tears, both because she validated my rage and didn’t shy away from it, and was so loving and gentle when i felt so awful and angry
  • the sexual act of fisting (i know, i’m sorry, i don’t even know why i’m thinking this, i’ve never done it and have no desire to do it but it’s been a very intrusive, repetitive thought all day so i’m putting it here)
  • “being ruled by an iron fist” – how it felt a bit like that when i was a kid, like we were in a weird sort of dictatorship
  • how my fingernails bite into my palms when i clench my fists in the midst of a panic attack/flashback…and how i always hear this one voice in my head telling me to open your hands, open your hands, stretch them wide, open your hands, that’s it… (it’s weird, i don’t even know whose voice it is, or why it says that but i always make a concerted effort to unfurl my hands)
  • that one of our first reflexes is the palmar grasp reflex…that even in utero, fetuses will grab and hold tight whatever is put in their hand. this is demonstrated at birth and for several months. i love little soft newborn hands, tightly clasped
  • the raised fist symbol, which has been adopted by various groups across the world as a measure of solidarity and resistance to oppression (i think most often of the black power fist and the feminism fist)


  • how the threatening gesture in our house was actually a hand raised in the air, poised for a backhand, as opposed to a fist
  • that, on occasion, i may have actually shaken my fist whilst cursing the universe…dramatic much?! lol
  • how our wee toddling girl used to hold my index fingers tightly, one in each fist, as she learned to balance on her own two feet
  • how one of the main symbols of death and dying, especially in movies, particularly accompanied by grand swells of music, is the relaxing of a clenched hand


I wanted to draw, but I had therapy and now have run out of time. I tried to, but it’s shit so I’m not uploading it.

I didn’t want to think about all the crap connotations, so what I tried to draw was a baby’s fist, all cute and small and balled up, because that’s the only kind of fist I like. That was the plan, but sorry, I did a terrible job.

Update: I did finish the drawing but never uploaded it. Going to upload it now (30/06/19) even though it isn’t very good.