I picked up this book from the library on Friday, and it's clearly meant to be (The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest)
I ruptured my right achilles tendon and am a sad grab bag of emotions right now. I know that with my need for exercise and a lot of it, I have a target on my back for injuries. But the funny thing is I've been working like hell to strengthen my pelvic floor and core even more, up from an hour a week to 2 1/2 hours a week since my trips to Mayo. I haven't reduced my tennis any either. I've actually been playing like there's music inside me. I don't think I've gotten any better, but it's more and more giving me a place to go to heal. And then it breaks me. It's just an injury, but I've got to figure out a new place to sort out my thoughts and feelings. I don't want this blog to turn into all the rocky bits I've had going on. I try to get to a positive place or find the moments of gratitude before sharing too much. And just that process of looking for the blooms in the thorns has given me the strength to work through each challenge. The growth and healing during and after the loss of my library job, learning how to run a business that I've never had any experience with (a blessing cloaked in a challenge), working through my G.I. issues with the help of so many and getting on a healing path.
But occasionally there are things in life that are harder to process and work through, things we add to our load of unsolvables that we carry in one large knapsack that can never be put down. I lost someone close to me, someone I didn't expect to. It happened late last spring, and the pain of it has been all-encompassing. I know I am strong and can grow from it, but I'm still in that place where I wake up most days and relive the loss. I spend these days fighting to not let it destroy me. Exercise, especially tennis, is where I go to ruminate, heal, and rage until I'm exhausted. This injury has left me particularly vulnerable. At this point I can't see myself ever being in a good place where I can write about this loss with any kind of gratitude or positivity. But it's just as much a part of me as my breath, and it will shape who I am going forward, so it's time to say it out loud and not be upset at myself for not being able to scrounge up any kind of positivity or peace for it.
When my tendon ruptured I was working through nerves because I was playing with new people. We were all joking, having a good time, but I hadn't found my groove thing yet. I took one step back to receive a serve, and the tendon exploded and I went down. Even during the initial shock of pain, I knew it was bad. I couldn't put any weight on it, and these incredible strangers helped Robert carry me off the court and to the car. I can't even begin to tell you how mortified I was. Even as I remembered seeing another player go down several years ago much the same way with a torn ACL, and how everyone jumped in to help her, I couldn't get past the embarrassment.
I can already find the gratitude for this latest challenge though. There is much to be grateful for. As Robert was reaching out to others for help - he has an athletic trainer friend who knew which ER we should go to and another friend whose sister owns a medical supply store, I was thinking holy hell, I don't have a single person in my life to say, "this horrible thing happened, and I'm completely wrecked by it." And just as fast as that emotion flickered through me, there was this relief that I did not have to share this ridiculously embarrassing thing with anyone, Robert being the exception of course. He's the one person in my life who continues to be there for me. He's seen it all. The good moments. The ugly. The stuff we know we're going to laugh about once we figure out how.
While I was at the ER I asked one of the nurses whether I did anything to create this injury. I went through the stretches I did, the tennis I played the day before, everything. It was a relief to hear her tell me that sometimes this kind of thing just happens. One thing I've realized recently thanks to a special book is that I'm so ready to blame myself for everything because it means that it's still within my control if I'm the one who caused it. But it also completely depletes me when I tear myself down. So I was really proud of myself for trying to get ahead of this problem by asking her.
I'm twenty four hours into this situation and now I'm ready to process it rationally and develop a plan. Really, it's many plans. But the first thing I'm going to do is not let the embarrassment and worry eat me up. So I'm owning up to the fact that I did not go down in a blaze of glory. I went down just backing up to receive a serve that had a little more sauce on it than I was expecting (something we do all the time in tennis). I played the day before, worked through my current roadblocks, ate what I was supposed to the morning of, stretched everything, and walked on the court ready. Sometimes shitty things just happen.
I am doing the boot and scoot this week, meeting with the same doctor who did Robert's ankle surgery next Monday (he's out of town or I would be in sooner), and doing the surgery as soon as he assesses the injury. And then it's 6-12 months recovery. Not too bad, right? There are already two things that I think are absolutely hilarious. The tournament I was playing in was called The Bracket of Death because it's a condensed into one day. While carrying me to the car on my lawn chair throne, Robert told me I didn't have to take the name literally. Second, the first song that was playing at the beginning of the tournament was Boot Scootin' Boogie. The universe was trying to warn me! I try to pay attention for signs from the universe, but they're usually not sung by Brooks & Dunn!
I can feel the injury like a hot, evil thing lurking in the boot, but it's not painful if I leave it alone. Other than my pride, the thing that hurts most is my back, which hurts with every breath. I am thinking I must have gone down hard and the scooter has been kind a jerk to my back (the dogs think it's a jerk too). But the scooter has a cute basket, and it has given me mobility, so I'm not going to talk too much shit about it. I also have an extra day thanks to the holiday to get used to this new reality and become a human again, ready for life and work again.
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