a gift

After one long year of waiting and hoping...

When I injured my back last June I was pretty sure I wasn't going to play tennis again. It took about three months to feel like I had my independence back. Initially I couldn't walk to the bathroom, dress myself, or sleep more than a couple hours at a time. I was out of work for weeks, and when I finally went back I carted around an ice machine and needed help plugging it in. I couldn't bend over until the end of October, and I was in spine physical therapy for months. Learning to bend over and get myself down to the floor was the hardest part. I was terrified I wouldn't be able to get back up. 

When I was given the go to start doing yoga at home in addition to the physical therapy exercises I was given, I would carefully lower myself onto my mat and then just sit there. Eventually I asked for guidance about each of the poses and whether they would be harmful or beneficial. Until this injury I had always been so comfortable in my body and I took it for granted. Once I began healing and was able to start physical therapy, my cautiousness was the thing that incapacitated me.

It's been such a long, long journey. I was cleared to try playing tennis again right as the pandemic hit and all courts, including backboards, were locked up. Even then, I wasn't sure I wanted to take the chance. So I was relieved I could wait a bit longer, but I was also ashamed I was relieved.

Life kicked me in the gut this spring, and I had no way of dealing with it. Whenever life got tough in the past I always dealt with it through tennis. After days of all-consuming anxiety and grief, I knew I needed to get my ass back out there. Even if I discovered I couldn't play without pain, I had to try. 

The moment my hands pushed the gate to the backboard open, and it gave a long, rusty squeak, I felt like I was home. That long, rusty squeak calmed the turmoil, and the calm I felt gave me the push I needed to pick up my racquet and try. 

So I've been hitting on the backboard several times a week but only about 30 minutes at a time. I'm not sure I want the stress of playing competitively again. The idea of someday leisurely hitting balls with someone rather than the backboard sounds nice but that's as far as I'm willing to take it at this point. I've spent a year coming straight home after work most days and spending time on my art, writing, and with my family, and I've grown fond of this kind of lifestyle. I've decided to give most of the 10-15 hours I played tennis each week for the last fifteen years to other areas of my life. Thirty minutes of smacking the crap out of a ball a few days a week is currently the perfect amount of tennis.

I feel like I've been given a piece of myself back, and it's a gift I'm not going to take for granted. But I'm also not going to take everything that gave me this gift for granted either.