Day 35 – “That’s pride fuckin with you! You gotta fight thru that shit!”

I’m growing increasingly frustrated with myself. I confessed to my husband today (and here I am publicly doing the same thing) that I was afraid of admitting frustration at my broken leg because I didn’t want to admit defeat. See, this is how my ego works. This is my dance with Self.

Break leg.
Shrug shoulders.
Decide quickly there is no way out.
Surrender.
Get frustrated.
Refuse to be depressed, angry, frustrated or in need.
Become depressed, angry, frustrated or in need.
Ignore depression, anger, frustration and need.
Smile and convince yourself that being broken is a gift.
Believe that. Make it so.
(That part is true, because I still wouldn’t change this for the world. Talk about an opportunity to get to know yourself and your limits!)
Hold head high and do not ask for help.
Find yourself in need.
Ask for help and be completely out of your comfort zone.
Do not admit defeat.
Find and interesting truism about yourself: That it’s easier to pretend everything is awesome when it isn’t because if you say things are not awesome when they aren’t you look weak.
Annnnnd, scene.
(Thank you.)

So here I am, admitting defeat. Slight defeat, not total defeat, but defeat nonetheless. There are things I can’t do. A broken leg sucks. It hurts and everything is difficult. I hate asking for help because I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and that makes me feel vulnerable and naked. Swallowing pride is not something that comes easily; I’d rather eat paste. Yet here I am, over a month in and with another month to go before some semblance of normalcy creeps back in and while I’ve settled into it and while I continue to see the positive in all of this it don’t make this any easier.

I know I will look back on this and appreciate the experience; as in anything I’ve ever gone through, I am learning more than I could possibly imagine. This happened at a critical time in my life. I get to stop and think about what I want to do with the rest of my life. Continue to teach? Still attempt to work in Educational Administration? Quit the whole deal and open a hot dog cart on the beach? Flee to a commune? These are all options and it’s nice to have options. The options are limited only by my imagination and I’ve worked hard to exercise that privilege.

My bones knit together, sewing up new possibilities and creating a newly formed leg which will make me a new skater and which will make my recovery process bold and new. My needs are different, I’ll have learned to break down and ask for help, I’ll have learned a new sort of patience with myself, I’ll have learned to be patient with others and I’ll learn to be happy in new and interesting ways.

These lessons are only starting to be learned and I’m not sure I even know the realms of possibility when it comes to facing down the beast that is my inflated ego. As much as I think I need to hang on to it, I realize it’s also my consistent downfall. I can convince myself of anything, talk myself out of anything that I’m too scared to do. After all, wasn’t my addict self always waist-deep in anger and fear? That petulance ruled everything. I was afraid of meeting new people because I already convinced myself I hated them. I was afraid to try new things because I convinced myself I’d be no good at it, I was too busy for it, or it just wasn’t worth it at all. I know that in addiction, I’d have never done roller derby – I’d have convinced myself I wouldn’t be able to do it, and I’d believe myself.

Fear, rage, an inflated ego…these are the things I’m trying to leave behind. But they’re all right here in front of me with this injury. Every day I have to battle these things. Fear that I’ll annoy the people I ask for help from, fear that I’ll inconvenience someone, anger that I can’t do anything I think I should be able to, anger that I’m slowed down, pride that prevents me from admitting defeat, an ego that is shellshocked from being ignored, then fear again that without my pride I will be unable to pull this off, and then back to surrender. I AM pulling this off. And, what. There’s not a thing I can do about this but sit here and wait for this precious cargo to heal and heal well.

Pride fucks with you. The trick is not letting it get on top of you.