Friday, September 14, 2018

Grieving to Believing

I took a bit of a blog hiatus recently - we've had a lovely few weekends with Marc's family and with my mom coming to visit, and I've been busy with our "back to school" schedule ramping up at Karma Kids Yoga, plus still fitting in all the doctor's / wellness appointments I need.

When I'm going through a hard time, it's often really hard to blog about.  I don't want to over-share, and I'm also always very cognizant that what I'm going through is peanuts compared to what many people, some of whom read this very blog, are going through or have been through.  It causes me to minimize or feel a bit of shame about my pain, but I always have to remind myself that it's okay to feel it.

Brene Brown says it best, as per usual:

"Empathy is not finite, and compassion is not a pizza with eight slices. When you practice empathy and compassion with someone, there is not less of these qualities to go around. There’s more. Love is the last thing we need to ration in this world. The refugee in Syria doesn’t benefit more if you conserve your kindness only for her and withhold it from your neighbor who’s going through a divorce. Yes, perspective is critical. But I’m a firm believer that complaining is okay as long as we piss and moan with a little perspective. Hurt is hurt, and every time we honor our own struggle and the struggles of others by responding with empathy and compassion, the healing that results affects all of us.” 
-Brene Brown, Rising Strong-

So, I can still be grateful that things aren't worse, but acknowledge the truth of the pain that I'm feeling.  It's a weird balance that I'm never quite sure if I've figured out.

It's also hard to blog about because there is SO MUCH I COULD SAY that I sort of succumb to paralysis by analysis and don't write anything.

I'll keep it simple and just give a hip update for those waiting with bated breath.  MRI confirms a labral tear, which reaffirms my faith in my wonderful sports medicine doctor who made the diagnosis within two seconds of seeing me, but...I had been led to believe that a labrum is completely incapable of healing itself without surgery.  It turns out - that's not the case!  Although it is harder and takes longer than a muscle tear to heal, it can heal.  I was lucky to get a really amazing female doctor to talk me through my MRI results on Monday, to have my wonderful husband join me for the scary visit, and to utilize his brilliant idea to record the visit so I could re-listen as many times as I need to make sure I fully understand everything.

Even though I've turned a corner in my pain level this last month, it's been the worst one so far for my mental and emotional health / attitude toward it all.  I've been bracing myself so fully for bad news - thinking that I'd need surgery which would financially break us or thinking that with or without surgery, I'd never be back to my 100% healthy self (no more running ever, no more yoga ever, no more sitting cross legged without hurting my body, pain for the rest of my life, aging before I'm old) - that hearing good news was a shock to my system.  This week has felt like a series of "Snap out of it!" slaps to the face.

I do need to restrict my range of motion even more than I have been lately, which continues to be frustrating.  I can't mess around with overdoing flexion, extension, internal rotation, or external rotation in the right hip - which continues to make my job and daily life challenging - but I've finally been gifted a little hope.  Not just from my wonderful friends who have never stopped believing I could heal, but from an actual doctor.  Her goal, like mine, is to get me back to 100%.  She thinks continuing to get my ass kicked in physical therapy (literally - sort of) and being really cautious will get me there.  We think it'll take until at least December, and if I'm not where I need to be, that's when we'll start talking possible surgery.  But I have the world's best physical therapist and I am more fired up than ever to put this shit behind me and heal.

Suffering a crisis of faith is uniquely challenging when you didn't have much of a faith reserve to begin with.  I wasn't raised with religious beliefs and was never drawn to anything more than the idea of spirituality, which is the vaguest thing ever.  This was definitely a crisis of faith, though.  I didn't believe I was going to heal - because I had been told that labrums don't heal without surgery, and surgery brings its own baggage - and I literally could not say the words out loud, "I will heal" without breaking down.  I didn't believe it.  Even now, for some reason, it's hard to say that I will.  But I need to snap out of it and fake it til I make it.

For now, it will be enough to get out of the city for a few days and back with my soup sister, who rejuvenates my soul and is one of my absolute top sources of faith when I need it.  Tomorrow I'm off to the Mile High City and I could not be more excited or grateful!

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