Thursday, February 5, 2015

I woke up this morning with a muggy brain, knowing I'd maybe slept two-three hours last night. I had the least painful day since my accident yesterday followed by the most painful night thus far.

My neck and arm throbbed, despite pill popping all night (appropriately done, guys), and I couldn't get even slightly comfortable in my immobilizer straight jacket, despite trying out a hundred different sleeping positions. I tried to sleep sitting up but it just kept me in a foggy, self-pitying state.

I kept yelping in pain all night to wake up the sleeping man next to me, which he appreciated deeply.

Last night wasn't a pretty picture of grinning and bearing it; I was discouraged and frustrated. Sometimes, in the pain, it's hard to keep in mind that this accident should've caused so much more damage than it did.

But, I didn't sit down to write "woe is me" in a variety of 100 complaints tonight; I sat down to express to all of you how deeply this injury is changing my life.

What I was sure was to be a day of just getting by, was so much more. My friend and assistant brought her son to play this morning as she helped me pack and ship orders I couldn't complete myself with one good hand and a half-functioning brain. Her organization always amazes me. Her son entertained mine for hours. Thank you, friend.

I was delivered Starbucks by another sweet heart. Nothing like caffeine to wake up the brain and chirp up the mood.

And then, someone I have missed so much, came to visit for four lovely hours today. We talked and talked, she made me soup from scratch, and helped tidy up the house. We promised we wouldn't wait until the next tragedy or baby to see each other. Her presence in my house was peaceful.

Calls and texts came throughout the day, too, checking in on me.

The past week, I have had well-wishers and sweet friends I haven't sat and chatted with enough, taking time to comfort, encourage, and feed me. I regret not spending more time with my favorite people, and now, here they are, day after day, taking time to be with me.  Every text/call/visit/meal/gesture leaves me feeling in awe of the depth of the blessings in my life.

When people ask how I am healing, I don't think of my injury first, as they mean. I, instead, think of all the ways I am healing as a person through this experience.

I have never felt so deeply appreciative, or loved, as I am in this season.

Thank you. In a strange way, I needed the assuredness that I mattered, that my life was meaningful. And day after day, you have promised me through your actions and prayers that I matter. (I hope, in some way, that my need for your friendships and outpouring of kindness to me, has reminded you,  of how deeply you are valued in this life, too. You matter so much to me, sweet friends. Words cannot express that).

This experience is also humbling. I refused the first meal offer that came my way, only to text back and admit it would be actually very helpful. What's more humbling than having a friend arrive at your doorstep with kid(s) to bring you a meal, when she probably has no idea what she's eating herself that night?

Nothing.

Or, having someone brush out the rat's nest hairdo you rocked in the hospital, or help you dress because you can't put on or take off your own shirt.

 So V E R Y humbling.

And while it's teaching me to accept loving and kind gestures, it's also teaching me a foreign concept, rest.

The hyper-active to do list accomplisher that lives inside me, never lets me rest. I've always feel twinges of guilt when I rest; I always have to be doing something productive.

This week, I was the mom at the park in an immobilizer swing, desperately lunging, squatting, speed walking around, despite the weird looks I was receiving.

I will not let myself go, I kept thinking.

My favorite form of movement has been taken from me, and in it's place, is this ugly fear that keeps creeping up. What if my life, my body falls apart when I'm in a state of rest?

I read a verse recently, a promise, that changed my perspective a little.

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." Isaiah 40:31.

This is my waiting period. It's not a season of movement. It's a much needed season of rest. And someday, not far off, I will be renewed to go again. I know I was made to be a go getter. it's in me to me to operate at a fast pace, to-do list in hand.

But every fast pace starts with a much slower first gear, and I forgot that along the way.

I get it now.

To know that I can be accepted by simply being me, stripped of the movement, the busy and the productivity that defines me, brings me new found peace.

And so, I am healing in the most intricate ways.

Thank you for all of your love, you will never know what it means to me.

















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