One of the gifted therapists in my life reminded me last week that the central question is, "Acceptance or change?" This doesn't mean we only do one - often acceptance of reality must precede the ability to change. But we were talking about a different situation (my job) and the point was I'm not a hand wringer. In that situation, I need either to accept the bad with the good or give up the good to get away from the bad.
This past week has been a challenge to my general optimism. And I've been thinking: is optimism based on the concept of change or acceptance? My brand of optimism consists of thinking through the alternatives, focusing on and directing energy toward the best, and acknowledging and being prepared for the worst. Golly that sounds exhausting when I say it aloud. No wonder I'm so tired.
But anyway, the one thing keeping me sane in this crapstorm of my life the past six weeks is exercise. So last Wednesday when I sprained my foot and ankle, the pain was terrible. And at least half of it was in my heart. I did not know how I was going to survive without my outlet, and there's not a whole lot you can do without a foot.
But I persevered. I was determined that this would heal quickly. I was looking at having to go to Las Vegas for work. You have to walk a mile just to get to your room in Vegas, which means if my foot wasn't better before then, it wasn't going to get better. I rested, iced, compressed and elevated. I was optimistic. Friday came and I was walking pretty well.
Unfortunately, I was not wrong about Vegas, and by the time we navigated the airport, my foot was throbbing. I elevated and iced and rested and compressed, but was back on my feet for an evening reception. The next day I walked across the maze of a hotel for meetings and went to another evening reception. It was also that next morning when I realized that I had packed no pants. So I was going to wear the ratty, ill-fitting jeans I wore on the airplane, each and every day. With the business-like tops I had brought. And sneakers.
The meetings went fine, the group was great. My foot was not. Regular shoes were way more painful than the barefoot runners that I had been sporting at home (but that I didn't feel I could pull off in LV). I took off my shoes on Saturday evening and my entire foot was black and blue and bruised. It HURT. I had optimistically bought the gym upgrade, but even walking as far as the gym was out of the question.
By midday Sunday I realized my jeans now had a hole in the crotch. I texted my wife that it was a win-win, I had a nice breeze and everyone else had a nice view. My wife texted me back "Lemonade. Nice." And I thought, yes! That's me! I make lemons into lemonade!
My flight home was delayed and delayed and delayed. So I downloaded a book I had been saving for a guilty pleasure moment and got through half of it while waiting. Lemonade, I thought.
And then I got home, at 1 a.m., to hear that while daughter was staying with my mom, she snuck into my bedroom, ate cookies in my bed and watched god knows what on my TV. I growled. I teared up. I went through my mental list of everything else I would have to check to make sure it was not missing. But I'm so damn tired and in so much physical pain at this point that I can't really think straight.
Why do they always kick us when we are down? Do they sense the vulnerability and go for the kill? Or is it that when we're not being super-strong they feel vulnerable and act out in their predictable ways? Does it matter?
I acknowledge that the optimism to this point has served me well. I spent last week focusing on healing instead of dreading what eventually did happen. Assuming it would have happened either way, I had a pleasant week and a crappy two days instead of a crappy nine days.
At the same time, I'm thinking that we may have reached the outer limits of my ability to be positive. I try to be consoled, instead, by the knowledge that this too shall pass. I will walk normally again. I will not always be a prisoner in my own house. I can stop being angry just as soon as I can just let it go and move on. But for now, this moment, right here - well, this one is going to suck. Deep breath. Acceptance.
No comments:
Post a Comment