How did I get here?
I used to be active. I used to have a life. Those who know me now are often surprised at how much I used to be able to do. They can’t imagine how I got it all done. Me, I just wonder why I can’t seem to do much of anything anymore.
Let me be clear: It isn’t my choice to be less active. It isn’t my choice to be unable to do the things I used to do. My body makes the decisions now. That commercial about the lady whose stomach decides whether she can go out or not, that’s me — except for me it is knees and back deciding. Deciding when I have done too much. Deciding whether I can do the things I love, or whether I am going to be stuck at home.
Even I can’t imagine how I got from where I was to where I am. I mean, I know what got me here, but not why I got here.
My body has always been somewhat fragile. Asthma plus allergies from a young age meant that I spent time each summer coughing my lungs out. A growth spurt in my early teens meant bad knees. But when I was younger, those issues meant a bit of slowing down. Now they mean dead stop.
I know when I started to go from active to inactive. Between 1998 and 2006, I had 7 surgeries. (6 of them on my knees.) Every surgery was supposed to make things better. They did, for a time. But now? Now I wonder if it was worth it.
Now, the active me is mere memory. Now, a busy day means reading and messing around on the web. Now, I can’t imagine making it to a show at the theater. I almost can’t imagine what it was like volunteering to be the lighting designer, the props mistress, the stage manager. Now, I can’t see how I could ever camp again, let alone teach camping and outdoor cooking.
What did I get in trade for the active me? A more experienced me. A me that knows her limits, even if she doesn’t like them. A me that can hold her temper. A me that knows other people don’t define me. A me that knows the past is the past, but also that it affects the future. A me that may not trust herself or others quite as easily, but who also knows who and what she can trust.
To help myself figure out where to go from here, I am going to start writing more. I am going to try to engage this brain of mine. (Hard, but not impossible.) I am going to try to be curious again — that is if I can remember how.
I don’t know if I will be able to keep up a regular writing schedule. It has been years since I tried. But I have the feeling that if I don’t try now, it will get to be too late before I do.
What I do know is that while I may never be healthy again, I have to learn to love my body as it is now. My back, my knees, my lungs — they have issues that aren’t going to get better. I need to get used to using what I have instead of letting what I have go.
I have to start thinking and writing again or I will lose the little that is left of me. I’ve lost so much already, I can’t see myself losing anymore. I have to starting making the next me. The one that knows what she can’t do, but also what she can do.
