recovery

There are so many things to recover from, no? Recover from surgery, recover from alcoholism, recover from a bad childhood, recover from the flu, recover from a trip. The list is never ending. But what is "recovery" anyway? I suppose it means different things to different people, and different things based on what one is recovering from. And when does one know that they need to be in recovery?

All philosophical questions that I'm quite sure I'm not up to answering tonight. And knowing myself, they'll be questions that I won't think about by the time I have the answers...assuming I ever do.

So, why the jag about recovery? It's a subject that came up during the week...directly, indirectly, and in regards to different things. When it comes to the alcoholism piece, I have a pretty clear answer: It's not simply about not drinking anymore. It's about a psychic change. It's about learning to "deal with life on life's terms" by using healthy coping skills, instead of running straight to the bottle...instead of running away, period. The answer for that one is fairly easy because I heard it over, and over in 12 step meetings, and in therapy...and it is something I teach to my own clients.

But then there is food. Food...which I am completely powerless over. In the 5 days of our vacation I gained 6 pounds because I ate every cookie, chocolate, and piece of pie that was in my line of sight. It's simple; it was there, so I ate it. I knew that everything I was eating was going to make me sick, but I ate it anyway. I knew that what I was eating was going to exacerbate the physical pain I was already having, but I ate anyway. I knew that I would gain weight, and I did it anyway. So what would food recovery look like for me? I've had periods where I was "good"-where I stuck to a diet that was healthy, that eliminated all of the offenders in my life...and I didn't apologize or feel guilty about it. I could just say no to bread, and candy, and whatever else came my way.

But then I fell off the wagon. I know exactly when...when i went in for my shoulder surgery a little over a year ago. I was so frakking petrified that I decided I could allow myself some comfort food...and I've never really gotten back on the wagon since. Oh sure, I get a few days, weeks, or hours here and there...but nothing resembling recovery...I white knuckle every moment of it. I'm running away, and I'm on a frakking runaway mustang the second I smell sugar. 

There's that classic question you hear in food recovery circles, "It's not what you're eating, it's what is eating you." So, what is eating me? Well, the obvious, if you've been reading my blog; my body crapping out on me, and my continuing drama of what to be when I grow up. There is also life-long anxiety, and depression to add a little fuel to the fire. Chronic pain that has gotten far worse over the last year and a half. Helplessness, and hopelessness. Yeah, those are the real things I need to recover from. 

I'll let you know how that goes.

to be strong

Needing to find some balance with my body.

Was just kinda feeling like I was getting a little stronger...and a little more in touch with my body.
And then I got sick. Spent 3 days in bed, and have ups and downs for this last week and a half.
Went to PT Monday and had to slow things down cuz I could tell my blood pressure was really low.
(Under 100 I told her)
The next day, feeling sliiiightly better my BP was 98/60 at my doc's office. (Let me assure you that when BP is under 100 it's hard to function mentally or physically)
Being in bed so much has really stiffened up the hip, and I can see my little muscles wasting away.

So, here I am in a state of frustration...wanting to get stronger, but on the verge of passing out and bronchitis if I get active.

So then I can ask myself what it means to be strong...what is so important about that...and IS it that important.
Being strong means...feeling strong...mentally, physically, emotionally. I'll be honest, I haven't been feeling strong in any of those areas for some time, and being physically strong again would help all 3.
Being strong means...being able to take care of myself. Which I guess I can do without big muscles.
Being strong means...being confident and feeling good about myself. The truth is that I've lost a lot of the activities in my life that make me feel confident and good about myself...many of those things were physical in nature. This has been a long battle...this trying to find non-physical things I can be passionate about. Guess I need to get to work.

try not...

Holy crap, i am so not ready for the cold weather. My joints aren't particularly fond of the cold anyway, but with this recent surgery, it's just another level of "oh crap." My hip is feeling better today after a week or so of not-so-happy after a rather unfortunate incident involving a runaway car full of puppies.

Still, no caber picking for awhile...still unable to like, say, put on my shoes without squawking in pain. It seems like a simple surgery like this should have a much quicker recovery...my friend who had a hip replacement a month before me has been doing full squats with weights for weeks now...I'm still on partial squats with a 1/3 of my body weight as per my PT and as per the sharp, sphincter spasming pain!

So, I'm trying to patient, I'm trying not to get frustrated...but, like Luke in Yoda's swamp; I'm not so much on the "doing" part as the "trying" part.

ice cream, ho!

Food Addiction, Activate!
Um, yeah.

I'm trying to be good, but all I can think about is food. In fact I'm going to go get some more coconut ice cream right now.

Hope you don't mind if I type with my mouth full.

On the good side I'm not eating a chocolate malt with a bag of fudge stripe cookie 'spoons', but I sure as hell ain't eating spinach and celery either.

The further away I get from percoset...Thursday will be 2 weeks, the more normal-ish I feel, however the reality that I've had to leave my career, and I can't get a fricking job outside of that field is kicking my ass. Sprinkle on top of that that I can't physically do so many things that I enjoy doing...well, I'm in a snit. I feel like a big f'ing loser.

I had a nice lunch with a friend, and was feeling a little less loser-ish, then right after I ran into two women I went to massage school with...they both seemed to have their shit really together...like adults...and i felt like a capital L, Loser next to them. they're still practicing, they are gainfully employed, they have families and activities...me? I did practice til why wrists blew out 5 years into it, but since then...I can't even count the jobs...my resume looks like a fricking...I don't know...like something gross blew up on a piece of paper.

So here I am with my bowl of ice cream.

go fish?

My peeps are at the field right now practicing for the Tucson Highland Games. C asked me last night if I would go to practice, but it's too dang hard to go hang out when I can't pick up anything without hurting myself. I've been trying to interest myself in more...sedentary hobbies since my hip went lame on me, but I just haven't managed to find a passion for anything just yet. And I admit, part of the lack of passion is in part due to how f'ing depressed I've been. I've got St. John's Wort coming out my ears, but I'm still depressed as hell. Some days the can't-get-out-of-bed depressed. Always swore I would never "let" myself get that bad...I would do something...make myself keep, well, doing. 

If I'm going to be honest with myself, I isolate myself too much-and yeah, legitimately, there was a while during my recovery where i couldn't do much more than get from the bathroom to bed, but I'm mobile now, so I don't have an excuse. It's just back to that whole reaching out to people to do coffee, go to a movie, play cards...anything to get my ass interacting with other humans.

Well, good thing I've got my C, and my pups.

meh

Yay for me. I'm not feeling as negative and crappy as I was at the time of my last posting. Not pooping rainbows just yet, but not as negative, and I'll take that for today.

I'm taking a little break from an online class I'm taking. I haven't committed to anything yet, but I've started taking prerequisites for a physical therapy assistant program. I've got just under a year before they take the next round of students into the program, so I've got time to try this on for size and take my time with a few classes. 

Although I'm not pooping rainbows, here is my attempt at doing things a little different. Rather than just pretending everything is grand and wonderful, I'll be a bit more congruent, a little bit more open. A few weeks ago I discovered an emotional/spiritual/mental thorn in my side that I didn't realize was there. Pulling it out was like, well, pulling a giant thorn out of my side...I was freaked out, I was disgusted, and it hurt. I bled all over for a while, it hurt like hell some more, I freaked out some more...but it finally seems to be healing over...and I'm hopeful (this is a rare and wondrous word for me to be using right now) that pulling out that thorn will start to heal some of the septicemia that I have very unsuccessfully been trying to clear up for years. Just having a little hope today feels good, because I've been feeling pretty hopeless about a good many things for way too long now.

On this thorn picking journey a couple of themes have come up; one of them being "support." Which I suck at asking for or accepting. But I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. When doing assessments I would ask about friends/support. I was taught to ask, "If you needed someone to bail you out of jail in the middle of the night, do you have someone you could call?" Pretty muchly, everyone I asked had at least a couple people they could call, but I bet if I asked, "If your heart was aching/breaking in the middle of the night and you just needed someone to reach out to you, do you have someone you could call?" that many people would say "no" or maybe I'm just projecting because that would be my answer. Back when I was new in AA, my sponsors told me over and over again, "Call me night or day if you need to talk." I did once. I was promptly told to pray and read some AA literature. Yeah, that was helpful. And it certainly reinforced that belief of mine that even if people say they are there for you, you can call them any time, chances are that a kick in the teeth is waiting in the wings. So, all that to say I'm not sticking my neck out to real, live people for support! How very healthy of me. ahem. yeah. ah well, part of the process, right? I guess part of the process is me learning who I can and can't count on for support...and right now I'm on the side of I'd rather take my chances of not getting kicked at all. I know support, trust, balanced relationships, etc takes time, and work, and taking chances. At least I'm thinking about it.

As they say in AA to the sick ones, "Keep coming back!"

Crap

What to share? I don't know that anyone reads this, but just in case, I don't want to make myself toooo vulnerable. Let's start with: It's been a rough patch...for a while. It was a heavy blow to have to admit that the profession I had spent 3 years of my life, and more student loan money than I care to admit to train for was...a big mistake. Emotionally; mentally, I just couldn't do it. And I hear my brother's voice echoing in my head every time I think about it..."Can't you stick to anything?" Well, I guess I can't...you win, asshole.

I tried to make it work. I tried different populations, different self-care techniques...but I was getting sicker than the people I worked with. Admitting defeat sucks, but I have to face the reality that I just don't have the constitution for that kind of work.

And here I am, 9 months later trying to figure out what I'm going to be when I grow up. I'm exploring some options, but I'm uncertain. I struggle with that whole "knowing what I know" thing. I'm struggling with the insecurity of having made one giant mistake and being terrified of making another. And the guilt and shame of not being able to get steady work because I look like a loser on paper...which makes me feel like a loser.

I don't have any positive spin to put on this today. If I tried, it would just be meaningless bullshit.

On another note, I've been sorting through my past...through old belief systems and habits...trying to resolve some things so that maybe I can go forth confidently...so that I can have faith that I do know myself, and my path.

It's been a damn slow process of cutting through the brambles, and discovering sink holes that I didn't realize were there. I've been frustrated, hopeful, hopeless, angry, content, sad, ashamed, but not yet confident. I try to put on a good show, but I know I'm succeeding less and less. And right now I don't have the energy for the show so I hide in my house, and if I have to go out I keep put on my Angry Armour and hope people just stay the hell away. However, I need to remember from my past that my Angry Armour doesn't work on the right people. Crap.

Anger

Anger has a way of lurking beneath the surface, like all those little fish at the beach. I don't notice them until they start nibbling at my open wounds. For some reason surgery has a way of reminding me how much anger I carry...how much anger is under the surface, all of which I choose to ignore, even when it squirts out the side of my head like cobra venom and lands on someone who it really shouldn't. Maybe it's not so much that surgery reminds me as it is that that wall I keep anger shoved behind gets tumbled during the physiological and psychological vulnerability of surgery.

Speaking of which, vulnerability makes me angry. This morning I was angry. Really angry. Not at anyone, or any groups. Just angry. Angry about vulnerability...and if I'm going to look at it more closely, angry at people who have, due to power differentials, made me vulnerable/taken advantage of my vulnerability. Revenge and Retribution-Angry. Not that I'd actually do anything, but these malicious thoughts are not so comfortable. When I was younger, I wore these like a suit of armour...but that isn't how I live my life anymore, and in my doped up, foggy-headed, post-surgery state I'm having trouble finding a place for all of this clutter.

Maybe it isn't clutter. Maybe it just...is. Maybe I just need to embrace the darkness, the pain, the anger. Sort it out of the floor...figure out what to keep, what to save, what to put to the side for further review. 

Maybe I should just order a pizza and take a nap.

the waves

Ok, so doing much better after yesterday's melt down. Have to have those every now and then. At least I do. For now.

Yesterday was a good reminder of how the accumulation of stress, physical pain, and lack of quiet can make me a little crazy. I know for most folks the sound of the surf is relaxing and such, but for me it's just constant NOISE. Constant noise. And how I just need some silence.

And this is a good metaphor for my mind. Let me tell ya; it's like the surf up there in my head. Constant, powerful waves of noise. Fortunately, I am able to quiet the noise, but it takes a lot of effort and it takes having a quiet space for me to do so. Just like exercise and eating right, this needs to be a daily practice for me, this finding my own still point, but I easily get distracted/off track. Perhaps my public confession will help me get back on track, and stay on track.

The impossble

Why do I blame myself for everything that goes on in the world? The guy at the gas station with the bad attitude, nuclear waste pouring into the ocean, the death of an acquaintance.

Wow, if only I had that much power! What the hell is wrong with me? Seriously? 

Yet when it comes to the things I have power over in my life, I feel completely helpless...powerless...and because of that sense of helplessness/powerlessness I fail to act. Maybe it's the realistic powerlessness of the former mentioned situations that I attach to. Maybe it's easier to take responsibility for those things that I obviously have no control over, because...crap...I almost had it. Because I really can't do a damn thing about those impossible situations, so I don't have to feel bad about not taking action. The only problem with that little situation is that I still do feel bad about not taking action. 

How f'ed up is that? I need to stop that crap.

The end.

Perspective

No game posts today. Just random thoughts bounces through my head like a rabid pinball machine.

Last night Chris and I visited one of her college friends and stayed up waaaay past our bedtime laughing, telling stories, playing darts, and smoking cigars. A few blocks away from her house C got a text and we figured it was her sending a last-word hysterical text. 

Instead it was a text from C's coworker T who I had met last week, along with T's partner J. When we went out that night I was thinking that C and I don't have many lezzie-couple friends, and that these 2 would be a great addition to our small circle. They were funny, they were in to fitness, unlike me they were both gainfully employes...perfect, right?

Back to the text...so T was asking if we were coming to the J's memorial. WTF?!? So we googled J thinking we must be misunderstanding the text. Nope. No misunderstanding. We're still unclear of the details other than J passed last week, and T is devastated..."heart-broken"...and our heart is aching for her...and we're hundreds of miles away and can only offer words and positive energy, and hope they are enough for now.

Moments like these, I realize how much of a control freak I am because I want so bad to make it better, but there's not a damn thing I can really do...except hold a space. And appreciate my own loved ones...and let them know how much they are appreciated.

Last Hurrah...at Least for Now...

Since exacerbating my shoulder a few weeks ago as well as having my hip get worse I was doubting my ability to ever throw again and had decided not to go to the Flagstaff games. I was depressed, I was sad, I was in a deep state or grief, which I was trying to stuff and focus on "taking care" of myself. After sending a text to someone about the games being over "for good" for me while sitting in the parking lot about to go into work I started sobbing. How could this be? How could I give up on something I love so much, on the new-found family I have become a part of? Once I was able to pull myself together I decided that I had to at least attend the Flagstaff games to have my Last Hurrah. The intention wasn't to place, or to get any PR's; just to be able to have my farewell to the games if this would indeed be my Last Hurrah. 

Another hitch in the situation is that there is a whole lot of boozing that goes on at the games, and usually my wife is there to help buffer the situation for me. This time, I would have to go solo. I was nervous about my sobriety (although I've been sober 18 years, I've been having a difficult time emotionally for a while and I have to be honest and say that fantasy's of drinking away my emotions have been fluttering by, but that is another blog). I let my fears eat my guts for a while, then I finally got the brilliant idea to talk to people. I talked to my wife, I talked to other friends I knew would be there and would support me if I just asked them to. And by talking,the fears and "secrets" lost their hold over me. 

And you know what? I had a really great time. It was wonderful stepping on the field and becoming the Bacon Socks Girl with the Bug Eyes. I don't quite know what comes over me when I compete, but I am able to access a part of myself that I have never known before, and who I haven't quite figured out how else to access. I like this chick; she's quirky, she's out-going, and dare I say, maybe even a little confident? That is what I have to give up if I have to give up throwing...unless I can figure out how else to get that chick to come out in play. Let's hope I can keep her via the Games...I'm game to find her in other ways, but I'm hoping I get to keep her in this capacity. She's dreamy!

not-so-bionic

I met with the surgeon today for my hip. I'll be getting surgery September 11 of all days. The surgeon isn't sure what all he'll have to do, but I can expect to be on crutches for at least 3 weeks...maybe more. Also set up an appointment to see if I'll need surgery on my left shoulder. Not a big fan of surgery, but not a fan of being in pain all fricking time.

Repairs and all, it looks like my throwing career is over. So now it's time to find a new hobby I can be passionate about. But first, there will be a grieving period to deal with. I'll let you know how that goes. or not.

love

            I grew up thinking I had no voice, and quite frankly the lesson I learned again and again was that I did indeed have no voice. This has been a tough lesson to unlearn. Even more difficult has been to learn that I do have a Voice. Part of the healing and moving on is recognizing the gifts of growing up with the perspective of not having a voice; I learned to listen instead of talk, to observe instead of act, to read peoples intent, to give others space To Be. But I have to admit that years of being quiet has left my soul hungry. Hungry to be heard, hungry to To Be, hungry for my own space, hungry embrace my True Self and have others embrace her as well, and hungry to be loved.

            I believe that my desire to be a Healer was influenced in part by my desire to have someone heal me. For years I searched for someone to "fix" me, which meant to love me enough that the hurt inside of me would go away. But no one could ever love me enough...in part because I wouldn't let them, and in part because I couldn't love myself.

Somewhere I learned that unconditional love had to start from within. And in addition to loving myself, I had to accept love freely and give freely of my love. That would be the full-circle of healing.
            Part of the lesson of loving myself, is knowing myself...seeing myself as I am rather than as the labels I have come to think of myself as. Seeing my True Self, and accepting and loving that self. Honoring who I am, and who I can be.

            I am not the child I was. I often forget that. More to the point I didn’t know for many years that I could be something different. I am someone new. I still don’t know exactly who that is but I am excited to find out. With each passing day I learn the lesson a little deeper that I don’t  have to live a life of suffering. I really can have more. And I want more. I need more. I didn’t come into this life to suffer, I came into this life to love and to be loved, but when I focus on pain and fear, it takes away from my capacity to feel love.

            I haven’t always known what I wanted. For years the screaming voice of fear told me that what I really wanted was to be alone. Just me and the bottle. But I know better now. Fear needs loneliness to survive, and fear shrivels in the light of love. If I don’t have time for love in my life, I don’t have time to live. I shall go forth and do that which creates love in my heart. Love; that is all that I need to do today.

million dollar thrower

So, it's been a while since I've posted a games update. A couple weeks ago I returned to Phoenix for my first Games since surgery (which was also the very first games I competed at)! I took 4th out of 6, which for me isn't bad, and more importantly I got 3 personal records (PRs). One in Hammers, which I've always struggled with, one in Sheaf, and one in WOB which is the event that sent me to surgery last year.

I'll have to throw the 28 pounder for Masters World Championships, which until last Sunday I hadn't picked up since I turned 40. I'm still pretty muscle sore, but I was able to make 8' without re-injuring myself, and I am happy as a little clam with that. I've still got a lot of work to do to make sure I keep myself in working order during competition, but I'm confident about the latter, and excited to compete with the world's best!

Recently my new MRI confirmed that I do indeed have a tear in my right hip labrum (to match the labral tears in both of my shoulders). My PT and I are hoping that physical therapy will give me enough relief not to have surgery, but it will take several months of therapy to determine that one, sooo...it's possible that I might be looking at hip surgery in the fall. I'm a bit...pessimistic about my prospects as the hip has gotten progressively worse over the last 2 years, and I haven't been able to walk more than 1/2 a mile without excruciating pain since last fall. The interesting question is "why do I have labral tears in 3 of the 4 joints that have been MRIed?" Now I just need to find a good doctor who can answer that question. In the mean time, I'll keep training the best I can, and living the best I can, and laughing at every misstep along the way!

Since I've managed a few PRs since shoulder surgery, maybe getting a bionic hip would put me in the top ranks!

The Spark

Last weekend i was able to stick around for an or so of highland games practice. I was able to do hammers (light), weight for distance (light), and stones. Hammer is the second scariest thing to me as a potential shoulder-re-injury activity, however; oddly enough, i had my second best throw of all time with my second toss of the 12# hammer. That gave me hope...hope of getting back to "normal", hope of competing, hope of being/feeling strong again.

Fear kicked in again after practice: "Will I be able to move tomorrow?", "Did I injure myself without realizing it?", "Will I have f'ed myself up for the next 3 weeks?" Alas, none of the above. Granted it hurt to laugh, or cough for a few days just from using muscles that haven't been used in many months, but I feel good. I had PT today and she was happy with my progress, enough so that we are going to start focusing more on core strengthening to help stabilize both shoulders and my funky hip rather than specifically the shoulder.

The last hurdle will be weight over bar, which was how the final injury which resulted in surgery happened. I know I'm not up for that one yet, and won't be for a while. We discussed band work, and kettle bell work that will happen in stages to develop the strength and stability to be able to do that one without further injury. 

So, to some things up, especially the things that haven't left my head yet; I am feeling pretty good about my prognosis. Reality is that I will be prone to re-injury so I will have to stay on top of training, regardless of whether or not I continue to throw, which quite frankly is a good motivator to stay in shape for the 2nd half of my life. In some ways, I think I'll be able to come back to training a better athlete as I won't be constantly plagued by and worried about minor injuries which will leave me more energy to focus on form and to be in the moment of my movement, and to be present in my body in a way that I haven't been...ever. 

This whole adventure isn't just about throwing heavy shit, it's about my own sense of pride, accomplishment, INNER strength. For whatever weird reason throwing has allowed me to access a part of my self that was buried under a mountain of rubble...a spontaneous, confident self that isn't constantly telling me that I need to be quiet and invisible. At the Santa Fe games a few years back when I spoke to Chuck about joining this motley crew, he had me talk to Patty R who told me that doing this had made her stronger, not just physically, but as a person I saw a spark in her eyes, a fire from deep within her core that I knew I wanted to be able to access as well...and by goddess, I have!

Atrophy. It's not just for breakfast anymore

Greetings Spider Friends! It's been a while since I've updated you on my shoulder progression, and today was a good day in PT so it seems like a good time to say, "you know, I'm really craving brownies." I'm also feeling a bit stronger...this weekend while recovering from the flu, I got a wild hair to start doing hangs from my chin-up bar...so i did...until my neck started to bother me. I was feeling kinda guilty going into PT having stepped over the Thou Shalt Not line, but after hearing Jen say "Hey your range of motion is looking really good" I got the last laugh! 

So what does this mean in the grand scheme of throwing heavy things? Well, I'm not sure exactly but what I do know; I have a long ways to go to restore medial rotation (hammer toss); I've still got a ways to got on general stability (I won't be hefting a 28 lb weight at masters this year); I can sleep without pain and do most "ordinary" activities without pain-which opens me up to hope of recovery; I can't do a pushup, but I don't really care, nor could I ever really do a decent pushup; as soon as I won't freeze my kilt off I can start some light practice; I still want brownies. 

And yes, I am a little all over the place tonight. I can assure you that mind is indeed a tangle of spastic tentacles. For some time I have struggled with my most recently chosen profession, and a recent series of somewhat related, somewhat unrelated events has gotten me to a level of stress that I am ready to walk away from my job. I am not sure if I will do that or not, but it is an option that is on the table...and if you've been keeping up with my ramblings, you are aware that my biggest stress reliever is throwing heavy shit, and I have not been throwing for several months now. So it is safe to say, I am having a bit of a stress overload. I have put out some energy and intention into the universe for some guidance and courage to move me onto a path that will provide joy and satisfaction, and now I have to trust that I will know the path when I come to it, and that i will be ok, no matter what in the mean time. Ah, faith...it is a muscle that I have let atrophy along with my anterior deltoid.