healing is hard
Jan. 29th, 2024 02:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheezI've hurt my leg again. Not too badly, I think (I hope, I dream). It's hard not knowing when it will be fully better, as always. Not the first time this has happened since that time, 10+ years ago now, but it always feels a bit like a curse. There's always a part of me thinking, again? Will I never escape this? And asking why somehow I still manage to repeat the same foolish mistakes.
That time, the time that was so long ago but I still don't seem to have let go of fully, wasn't my fault. I don't know exactly why it happened, but the signs point toward the jogging and cross country, that day after day repetitive impact that seemed to add up into something my body couldn't handle but everyone else's could. That was my main mistake then, not so much the jogging, though yes maybe I should've stopped at the first sign of pain, but always thinking about the everyone else. Always thinking about what they could do that I couldn't. So now I'm trying not to think so much about what I can't do.
Easier said than done, when it seems like everyone else's injuries heal in a day, in a week, in a moment; when I see people spending time together doing activities I can't do right now and feel like I'm being left behind. I know these feelings don't help me. I also know that my jealousy is a monster, that whenever I've let it consume me in the past I've only felt regret. It is easier now not to let it consume me. And I like to think that is some form of growth. Because I think it comes from a place of love, of being able to cheer on the people in my life for what they accomplish and what they find joy in, even at the times when it makes me feel small. I'm glad for myself that I can experience both of these emotions at the same time. That even though I haven't managed to stop the jealousy, it's no longer the overriding emotion. That there is love and friendship too.
This time was my fault, anyway. There was the actual moment of injury, lifting my leg too high and feeling that twinge in the inner socket of my hip. Then the foolhardy decision to run on top of that, and go climbing on that of that, and then go on a 4 mile walk on top of that.
Now, 2 weeks later, I look back and keep kicking myself for it. I ask myself, why didn't I stop at point A, or if not that point B, or if not that point C? Would I be better now if I had? Then I tell myself, "It already happened, let it go. The what-ifs don't matter." Then ask the same questions again.
That's the real problem, maybe. Whenever I've avoided injury for a couple years, I think that I'm stronger than before. That it won't happen again. And that if it does, I'll be able to handle it better. This last part is still out for the jury. I'm trying.
I remind myself that healing takes time. That it could be much worse, that if I push it, I could lose my ability to walk like that first time. That it is a privilege that I am healing, that I can heal, that I have the space and time and energy to heal, that there are people who ask me how I'm doing. That unlike the first time, I do not feel quite so alone. That there are so many things to find joy in that don't require movement.
But it's still hard. I feel the warmth of people's care and I still feel alone. It frustrates me not to be able to move my body in the ways I want it to move. It frustrates me that I can only sleep on one side. It frustrates me to tell myself, you should feel lucky it doesn't hurt much when you walk, when you sneeze, when you lie on your back.
I want to be petty. I want to complain. I guess that's what I'm doing now.
I want to be better.
I want to be better.
Maybe if I say it enough, it will come true...
That time, the time that was so long ago but I still don't seem to have let go of fully, wasn't my fault. I don't know exactly why it happened, but the signs point toward the jogging and cross country, that day after day repetitive impact that seemed to add up into something my body couldn't handle but everyone else's could. That was my main mistake then, not so much the jogging, though yes maybe I should've stopped at the first sign of pain, but always thinking about the everyone else. Always thinking about what they could do that I couldn't. So now I'm trying not to think so much about what I can't do.
Easier said than done, when it seems like everyone else's injuries heal in a day, in a week, in a moment; when I see people spending time together doing activities I can't do right now and feel like I'm being left behind. I know these feelings don't help me. I also know that my jealousy is a monster, that whenever I've let it consume me in the past I've only felt regret. It is easier now not to let it consume me. And I like to think that is some form of growth. Because I think it comes from a place of love, of being able to cheer on the people in my life for what they accomplish and what they find joy in, even at the times when it makes me feel small. I'm glad for myself that I can experience both of these emotions at the same time. That even though I haven't managed to stop the jealousy, it's no longer the overriding emotion. That there is love and friendship too.
This time was my fault, anyway. There was the actual moment of injury, lifting my leg too high and feeling that twinge in the inner socket of my hip. Then the foolhardy decision to run on top of that, and go climbing on that of that, and then go on a 4 mile walk on top of that.
Now, 2 weeks later, I look back and keep kicking myself for it. I ask myself, why didn't I stop at point A, or if not that point B, or if not that point C? Would I be better now if I had? Then I tell myself, "It already happened, let it go. The what-ifs don't matter." Then ask the same questions again.
That's the real problem, maybe. Whenever I've avoided injury for a couple years, I think that I'm stronger than before. That it won't happen again. And that if it does, I'll be able to handle it better. This last part is still out for the jury. I'm trying.
I remind myself that healing takes time. That it could be much worse, that if I push it, I could lose my ability to walk like that first time. That it is a privilege that I am healing, that I can heal, that I have the space and time and energy to heal, that there are people who ask me how I'm doing. That unlike the first time, I do not feel quite so alone. That there are so many things to find joy in that don't require movement.
But it's still hard. I feel the warmth of people's care and I still feel alone. It frustrates me not to be able to move my body in the ways I want it to move. It frustrates me that I can only sleep on one side. It frustrates me to tell myself, you should feel lucky it doesn't hurt much when you walk, when you sneeze, when you lie on your back.
I want to be petty. I want to complain. I guess that's what I'm doing now.
I want to be better.
I want to be better.
Maybe if I say it enough, it will come true...
