Recovery
It’s always the same. There is the injury. There is the acknowledgement. There is the recovery. Tuesday night my calf was screaming. Injured in my sudden retreat from the unexpected appearance of the red wasps, it wanted to bear no weight. The next morning it was tender, barely walkable, and I visited the clinic to ensure the damage was routine. This morning, what felt catastrophic on Tuesday, feels more or less normal. There is soreness, but I am ambulatory.
From minor injuries to major surgeries. It’s always the same. I work to define the limits of the injury and begin moving within those limits. Movement has always been the key to recovery. It defines the limits and helps push them back, until I am what passes for well. Of course, sometimes there is a new normal. Sometimes the soreness lingers because a muscle didn’t go back together quite right or a ligament stretched past its ability to come back. But in the end the body learns a new way to move, and off we go.
Over the years I’ve used the same principles for any sort of upset. A bad spot at work, a broken heart, a defeat, a loss. I recognize the pain, put it in its box, and keep moving. That’s the path I know to recovery. And sometimes, just knowing the pain will ease, helps the pain to ease and that feels like magic. In the end I think it’s about acceptance. Dealing with what is. I am hurt. I will heal. And it while it may not be a way I remember, it will be the way I am. And that will be the new me. Until the next time.