To say the least.
As of yesterday I've been at my "new" job for three months now. In those three months I've signed up for Tough Mudder, lost my grandfather, and broken my hand. It doesn't sound like a whole lot, but I feel like I've been through a lot.
I'm more used to worrying about everyone else but over the last 12 weeks I've been reflecting on myself more than usual.
I've looked inward a lot, and thrown a lot of what I find out the window. I have a tendency to analyze myself and my feelings and responses so much sometimes that by the end of my reflection time I dismiss myself. In fact, it's usually cut short because I tell myself "this is ridiculous, forget it" and I try to go on to the next thing.
Dismissing things isn't a very good way to deal with them. Obviously. That's why I've been taking so long to get back here writing. I've contemplated coming here to spill my guts several times over the last week but I've been too distracted. I blame the cast because I don't know if it was something else, but I've had some pretty bummy moments over the last month and I didn't want to moan and groan about it here. I did start this blog with the intent of trying to find a positive outlook after all . I was feeling low because I couldn't do anything - or at least I felt that way. Marina and useless don't go well together in the same sentence. If you know me you know I am always buzzing around doing something. If you come to my house I'm cooking or baking or cleaning or something. I'm the planner, the maker, the chef, the cleaner, the mediator, the voice of reason - always. Getting stuck in that cast for 3 weeks turned me into the sleeper, the grumbler, the whiner, the baby, the invalid, the yawner, the sigher, the cryer.
I'm out of the cast now though.
Last week, exactly 3 weeks from the day the cast went on, I was set free. Instead of the projected maximum of 6 weeks of healing time, I was told after 3 weeks in the cast that my hand was healing very well and that it doesn't look like it was broken. Now, I saw the x-ray, I know it was broken, but I'll take the early freedom.
I didn't feel good coming out of it though. They took the cast off and I couldn't believe how heavy my hand felt, despite how small and insignificant it looked. People warned me it would smell, it would hurt, it would ache. The ache was the worst. Ever sleep funny? Wake up with your arm asleep because it was under your head under your pillow all night? Ya, multiply that by 10 and that's where my hand was. Posing for my follow-up xrays was excruciating, the physio exercises killed and I was stuck with sores inbetween my fingers because the emergency doctor who casted my hand didn't wrap my fingers first. The first two days out of the cast were uncomfortable and I had a very hard time being happy to be out of it.
But now a week has gone by and I'm typing this with two hands. It gets sore after a while, I have to massage it every couple of sentences since it cramps up very easily. But I can do it.
I can drive two handed again too, and text. I can turn a doorknob and open a jar (as long as the lid isn't too tight). I can shower comfortably again! I can shampoo and condition and style my hair PROPERLY now that I have two hands again. I can cook dinner for myself and my hubby. I can take care of myself and my home again. It's wonderful.
I have to take a second here though, to shout out to my main man for taking such good care of me. If you know me, you know I am very much the matriarch of our group of friends. I am mom. I take care of everyone. I mother and nitpick and keep everyone organized. I host and spoil and never ask for help - maybe not never... but someone usually has to insist.
Anyway. For the three weeks I was in my cast, my hubby was so awesome. He's always awesome, but this was special. It's not that he never takes care of me or helps with anything - we're a team, obviously we share a lot of our responsibilities - but I was truly humbled to have him do literally everything for me. He didn't just tie my shoes or hook my bra for me. He did more than just cook for me and do dishes. He was patient. He was strong for me when I couldn't be strong for myself. He reassured me that it was ok to ask for help, to be in pain, to be sad and frustrated. He was my rock. He is my rock.
And now my rock is eager to get me back into my training regimen. I'm eager to get back into my training regimen. This is a Tough Mudder blog remember?
This journey has been a crazy one already and I feel like my mind and heart have been working much harder than my body has (except for the whole bone healing thing). My heart has been happy, broken, light, sad, warm and heavy.... my mind has been foggy, stressed, hopeful, worried.... And if I didn't have the Tough Mudder I don't think I'd be able to learn from all of this as openly as I am trying to.
Like I said, this blog was for me to share with you my journey, yes, but it's incentive for me to articulate my thoughts positively. I want to give myself a reason to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the greener grass, the glass full, that sort of thing. If my Nonno had died before I signed up for this, I don't know what I would have done with myself... If I broke my hand without the motivation to get better for TM... I'm not sure what I would've used to drive myself... But I'm thankful I can use TM to push myself now.
So that's what I'm doing. That's why I did my first bit of yoga (a hands-free yoga session with Yoga with Adrienne!) this morning. Just breathing my yoga breaths cleared my head in a way I have not felt in some time. I've been walking Moose again, with my good hand lol - I wanted to run this week but I've been sick (did I forget to complain about that?). I won't sob about being sick... but it sucks - but it's a less gruelling delay than a broken hand so maybe that's why I didn't give it much thought here. Anyway, when this sick is gone, and I'm home from my long weekend stay in Wasaga Beach (excited to be at the beach without a cast !) training recommences. Doing yoga for the first time in a month reminded me how quickly my muscles lose their flexibility and strength. I can't slack anymore.
No more moping
No more slacking
No more excuses
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