I’ve talked before about finding what you’re made of. Until now, the challenges I’ve faced have largely been of my choosing. This time though, external forces have forced me to explore greater depths of myself and the limits of my tenacity.
I’m now almost eight weeks into this ordeal and I’m certainly much improved but each day and week present new and different challenges. It’s been a grudging, gradual process to regain independence and mobility. Around two weeks I started to realize I’d be ok eventually. By four weeks I started to feel more like myself, like I was regaining my spirit. At six weeks it was time to start trying to walk again and I had more control of my progress.
Even though in the big picture there’s a clear progression, to me living it from day-to-day, it’s been tenuous and non-linear… fleeting moments that I wasn’t sure I could turn into anything sustainable. It has been difficult and frustratingly slow journey. To be broken down to your core, having to dig in and start over, and counting progress with miniscule victories is humbling. Trust me, the joy of finally being able to bathe yourself without help is exciting… but contrasted with why you had to be in that position in the first place is an emotional struggle.
Now at almost eight weeks, recovery is entirely up to me. Only I can be diligent about my physical therapy. Only I can push past the pain. No one else can do for me what needs to be done to get back to my life. To succeed, I have to find my fierce… the part of me that won’t give up, the part of me that is angry, the part of me that won’t settle for anything less than a full recovery, the part of me that gives this whole situation two vigorous, defiant middle fingers and gets back on the motorcycle and back to being who I am.
That means focusing on the progress. Celebrating the exceptional moments even though the rule is still struggling with daily tasks… trusting that the balance will shift if I work hard enough, if I find how fierce I can be.
And so I leave you with this…