Now

I get sad and overwhelmed when I think of the magnitude of my situation, and that I haven’t walked in over 3 weeks and won’t walk for another 3 most likely.  I get sad when I think of how I can’t do a side plank or glute bridge because I can’t put weight on my right ankle.  I get sad about not having the flexibility to drive myself to a meeting of choice, at the time of choice because I cannot drive.  I get sad that I have to think so hard in evaluating how much energy it costs to do certain things and if it’s worth it – like go upstairs to get something or go without it because I don’t really need it.

Having my mom near me is the best way out of myself immediately.  When I am tempted to feel sorry for myself and my plans, I simply look at her and see her in her wheelchair, never complaining.  I see her cleaning up, doing dishes, making herself things and not fucking complaining.  I see her getting a shower every day, wearing fun clothes and looking her best because it is true – when we dress how we want to feel, we feel better.  I have been wearing comfortable and matching clothes, but I appreciate the extra effort she makes and her incessant encouragement to clean up, so I feel better.  I can’t get my soft cast wet so cleaning up is relative, but it can be done.

I couldn’t have a bigger opportunity to practice what I preach.  I recently read that wisdom is the ability to follow your own advice – no shit!  How easy is it for us to tell other people “this is temporary”, or “trust the process”, or “relax and take it easy”, when we’re not in their situation?  How easy is it to say: “focus on the positive”, “be grateful”, “be present” when we’re not feeling what they’re feeling?  Of course, I know this is temporary – that doesn’t make this easier (at all times).  Of course, I am trusting the process as I have yet to be left to fend for myself – that doesn’t make it less frustrating when I get up in the middle of the night and can’t just walk there.  Of course, I know I can relax and take it easy, which I am – that doesn’t mean I’m not human and don’t fast forward to what I want or wish I could have.

I am focusing on the positive – the rest of my body is healthy, strong and able to get me around.  I am healing quickly (from my perspective), and off meds faster than I expected.  I am sleeping again, and I haven’t since Halloween.  I am eating normally and not turning into the whale I assumed that I would – imagine!  When you feed yourself well and take care of your body, it takes care of you.  I am grateful that I have people that care enough about me to check in on me regularly, call me to see how I am and visit me to lift my spirits.  I have a family surrounding me, wanting to make this easier for me.  I have a dog that won’t leave my side (literally).  I have people that love me and send me texts reminding me that I am not alone, even though sometimes it feels that way.

I have learned a lot about myself during this time, and other people.  I have had to let some people go, as my needs for a friendship are higher than they are now capable of delivering.  It has been painful, distracting, and frustrating.  I don’t typically hang onto things for very long, but I was clinging like my life depended on it, anxious to see my part and fix it.  It wasn’t until I started praying for them and acknowledging that maybe my part was simply to own my truth in that I deserve more, and that it wasn’t personal, that I could start to stop thinking about it so much.  It reminded me of staying in a casual dating relationship, where the guy shows up every once in awhile and gives you just enough that you want more, only to disappoint you 99% of the rest of the time and not show up at all.  I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t do that anymore, and so I’m not.  It just didn’t feel good and I’m sad, but I have yet to die from sad.

I acknowledge that I have no idea what is going to happen.  I cried on my way to surgery because I was so afraid of the unknown, but in shedding those tears I released my fear.  It took me 3 hours to get out of the hospital because I couldn’t wake up or stop feeling nauseous, neither of which I enjoy.  But I got through it.  Night and day 1 sucked, and if you called me you know how I sounded.  Night 2 was a hair better and day 2 was light years better.  Night 3 was OK and day 3 I was almost in the clear.  Night 4 I actually slept, and day 4 to now I can say I feel like I did before surgery, only more stable because I have a cast supporting my plated ankle instead of a boot allowing it to move around.  I do my best to stay here, because when I think about how long it’s been since I’ve walked and how long it’s going to be, I get overwhelmed.  When I think about the long runs I’m missing and the training I can’t do to better prepare me for my plans next Spring, I get sad and angry.

But when I stay where I am, tucked into a profession that invigorates me and gives me purpose and power; when I stay in my parents’ house with Bam and the birds in the backyard and the quiet that I can be right now – I am OK.  And that’s all I need to be – is OK.  Because a long time ago, I did learn that right now I have absolutely everything that I need.  I have everything in this moment. 

I guess I just needed to practice a little bit more to appreciate that that is still true.