I know that recovery doubt seems a little dark after yesterday’s post, but here we are. My plan was to share “The Plan,” complete with full excitement and enthusiasm. I accomplished that, but there is an emotional setback that popped up this week and left me reeling.
There will be some whining ahead. I’m sorry. I have to get it out.
I Needed A Direction, So I Devised An Idea
The point of The Plan was to give me focus. At the moment, I feel unmoored, and just a little lost. I’m isolated and lonely, and I don’t know which way to go. Having a plan gives me something on which to set my sights. As a goal-oriented person, it’s healthy for me to know what I’m working towards so I can take the steps to accomplish it.
Physical Therapists On Board
I shared my thoughts with two of my physical therapists. One is a runner and one is not. Neither one laughed, nor did they tell me I was out of my mind. They were both very clear that they could guarantee nothing, and that I needed to be realistic about things. My response is that I’m not going for Boston. I’m ok with never making it to a podium as long as I live. But I miss running. I miss my people and the community of races. the lack of having something to work towards is driving me insane. I’m not too proud to walk (quickly) and I am ok with all of that.
So were they.
Face-to-Face With Deflation
And then I was hit with some comments that hurt me to the core. It was suggested to me that perhaps the reason I broke my leg had to do with the stress on my body from running. That perhaps I should be extra careful because if I do this again, it might mean not being able to walk properly, let alone.
(I will remind everyone that I fell with my entire weight on my right heel. There was no way I was walking away from that unharmed. There was nothing wrong with me short of a spell of klutziness that resulted in a very unfortunate trauma).
It was exactly what I didn’t need to hear. While I don’t need people to tell me what I WANT to hear, it had never once been a consideration that I couldn’t get back to semi-normal. Until those words were spoken to me, I never imagined I wouldn’t get better. Recovery doubt absolutely washed over me and I’m shaken.
So many people come back from trauma and injury. Will it be the same? Probably not. Will it require tons of hard work? Of course. But they come back. I laid awake Monday night, thinking about all the recovery doubt I didn’t have before. What if I can’t hike anymore, or walk on the beach without pain? The thought of never being able to get up on a stand up paddle board or do yoga or 9Round again shatters me.
It Goes Beyond Running
It goes deeper, too. My blog is “Runs With Pugs.” It’s not a huge moneymaker, but I have worked on curating and cultivating this space through the past seven years. So many of my friendships are built on running and travel and adventure – if I can no longer be a part of those people and things, what happens to me?
It’s been an emotional week. I’ve been crying quite a bit more than I have in a while. I’m just… sad. There has been a target I’m shooting for and it was never a consideration that I wouldn’t hit it. In the meantime, I’m so lonely and isolated, alone with all the awful thoughts. When you’re so out of the loop, it’s kind of like you stop existing. It’s not intentional, just out of sight and out of mind.
From here, I’m not sure what to do. It’s just one of those unexpected side effects from injury. To be sure, I’m wallowing quite a bit. I don’t feel like myself: I’m hurt and bone-tired. I’m not motivated to work on My Plan or anything, really.
What Am I Going To Do?
I haven’t decided. At the moment, sleeping and chilling in pajamas seems the reasonable option, but I know that’s not the answer. From this point, I have to figure out a way to get past the fear and recovery doubt. I’m a mostly positive person, so I think I need to find that next small victory and find my gratitude again.
This is a hurdle I didn’t expect to have to encounter on top of everything else, but I’m accepting that it’s out of my control and now I have to take that control back. I need to believe that I can come back from this, strong and whole (and hopefully, slightly more careful on the stairs).
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Have you ever doubted your own recovery?
What are your coping mechanisms when sadness comes in?