We’re not a terribly religious family, but we believe in taking a moment before we sit down for dinner to reflect on all which we are thankful for. We regularly let Emerson lead, and it’s great to hear what is important to her. One time Emerson closed with, “Wyoming” instead of amen (the previous night we read a book about the 50 states). It has become one of the “things” we now say at times when, “I agree,” or “amen” would be appropriate. And somehow, this word is more appropriate at many different times.
Today I type this with both hands, and with no pain. This morning for the first time since February, I was able to open the jar of coconut oil without some crazy setup with a silicone mat and my feet. Last night, I slept through the whole night without waking up so a stiff throbbing (or asleep) hand. I drove to work with my hands on 10 and 2. I can get in and get out my contacts. When Emerson stubbed her toe, I picked her up with both hands, and gave her a two-armed bear hug.
The past two months have sucked. I felt helpless, useless, a burden. On top of the injury, I had work stress and then was completely disconnected from the office thanks to short term disability. I couldn’t blog, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t drive and get away. Personal situations took place that were upsetting, overwhelming, and out of my control. I couldn’t talk about my situation because it just seemed like whining, and I needed to be strong in front of my daughter. I got back to work and felt as though I didn’t have a place any more. My regular suit of armor, my personal style, which gives me strength to get through tough times was unavailable.
It affected my sense of self and my relationships with loved ones. It made me not want to create, to write, and it sure made me not give a damn about how I looked. The recent outfit photos? There were a few tears during them because I felt so ugly, so fat, so stupid. We did them indoors because I had such anxiety being outside on display. Karl said I had to force through even if I hated it because if I didn't I'd stop doing them all together, and he knows how much I love the blog. I just had to get back on the horse. Funny, my orthopedist said something very similar about getting back my hand and wrist - fight through the pain, work on it daily even though it hurts, or I may lose it forever.
I just got back from a short family vacation, one that was planned well before my broken arm and one I couldn’t cancel. I felt so guilty leaving work right after six weeks on disability, and feared it would jeopardize not just my job but the progress I was making on my arm. The drive down was long, and I spent it doing physical therapy. I practiced being able to again make a peace sign, sign I love you, give devil horns. When at my cousin’s house, I was constantly making a fist and then flexing my hand, pushing down my hand and then pressing it up to work the wrist. One day we went on a boat and the speed, choppy waves, and Emerson clinging to me left my hand a red swollen lump of pain. I didn't do my hair the entire time, hardly wore makeup, and lived in comfy knits and jeans. I let myself relax and focused on my healing and my family.
And now I am back to the real world... for real this time. I again am wearing clothing that makes me happy and feel put together, my makeup and hair are styled and in a manner than feels right for me. My strength is coming back in both my hand and in my spirit. It feels so good to come back.
Wyoming! Wyoming! Wyoming!
