"Okay now, I need to you to hold it for ten seconds, fifteen times okay?" My ever persistent physical therapist instructed as she gave me a green rubber band.
"okay, here goes nothing." I responded as I started to pull back, Or everything, my ankle corrected me as I shut my eyes to hide the pain.
After completing my exercises I was ready to just go home. To my bed, and never to get up again. But get up I did, and carry on I shall. 4 weeks now into my physical therapy sessions, that are now eating up 6 hours a week, I can see a difference. I am learning to walk confidently again. I keep finding myself forgetting my injury and then being gently (and sometimes not so gently) reminded. Its been a journey. A journey of healing, and I am still on it.
Healing doesn't happen over night. It is not a one instant and then BAM your healed. Not on this earth. While being injured has taught me bunches of lessons about humanity and my dissipation toward humans (as i have logged in this blog) however I think the biggest lesson has been on a deeper level than I ever would have expected.
My past is both speckled and darkened by so many not-so-pleasant and potentially painful memories. Some I tuck contently away and rarely have reason to recognize them, others hang around, constantly lobbying for attention. Dealing with the memories and living in the present can become a difficult balancing act. One second its all good, next I am trying to over correct my jumpy reaction to a slight comment that means nothing in the present, but was earth shattering in the past. I am finding new wounds that I have stuck in the back and ignored for years, wounds that I realize will not heal unless I choose to recognize and restore these parts of me. This requires to rip off the mask that I have pretty much root itself into my being. It means putting up with some of the pain and processing it instead of procrastinating. Also I find myself needing to do a fair amount of leaning on my closest friend, my boy friend, and above all, my Heavenly Father.
My heavenly Father is right there, pointing out the major and minor issues, calming me when I get too worked up, and reassuring me of His unchanging and unfailing love. Beyond that I have amazing people who are patient with my tendencies and who in their day to day interactions with me show that they love me and refuse to let me forget it.
Healing isn't a easy an easy process. A part of me would rather just go to bed and stay there, forever. But in the end it will be worth it. Already I have been able to experience a true confidence (as opposed to masked/fake one) that has been so foreign to me and I can see where parts of me are starting to heal in stead of just languishing in a festered mess. Slowly I am gathering and defining a identity that I hope will be both flexible and durable. An identity not based on my past or struggles but founded in my Fathers love with a purpose of helping others on their journeys. A bit vague I suppose, but its a work in progress, so that's completely acceptable. One day at at time they say.
One class, one moment, one memory at a time, eventually all of these little things will be come together to make one little life, and then hopefully in the end He will have found a way to use that life to His purpose.
