I did something to my back more than two weeks ago and hadn't been able to do much except complain a *lot*. Since all of you who read this blog know me, I would like to thank you in advance for not saying to my face: "Yeah, um... that was a lot of complaining". I have officially beat you to the proverbial punch.
It seemed like I wasn't able to accomplish anything. So many of the things that need to be done for my job require using my back -- unloading the dishwasher, picking up laundry, washing the floor, hauling recalcitrant preschoolers out of naughtiness, driving for extended periods of time, maneuvering grocery/ supercenter carts through oceans of self-absorbed fellow consumers -- hell, even just propelling my substantial self forward. My instinct was to just push through it: shoot back a handful of Advil (TM: thank you!) and do the things that need to be done anyway.
I would conquer! Pain be damned! And then my body said "NOoooooo!". And I lay on the floor while Little J treated me like a moonbounce and occasionally asked "Mommy, why are you letting me jump on your belly?".
When I return from a walk, I highlight the day on the calendar in bright yellow. I had such a nice little pile of glowing golden squares of accomplishment! But when I was in too much pain to walk, the calendar became a long, barren stretch of blank boxes. I started to feel restless and deeply pissed at the same time. I wanted to be out! I wanted to be doing! Accomplishment NOW, dammit! My nightly strolls were no longer about walking out to meet God and the truth about reality. I had started off just saying the rosary as I went; then with the acquirement of my iPod Shuffle (TM: awesomeness!) I began listening to pious audiobooks. Well, one night that wasn't doing it for me and I switched over to "Bossypants" by Tina Fey (hey. she's funny). I began to fantasize (and "fantasy" is exactly what it was) about eventually walking marathons and starting to jog and maybe doing a half marathon after the pilgrimage and eeeverrything's commminngg up ROses!
I think it would have ended about as well as it did for Natalie Wood (in real life, not "Gypsy"...ew...).
It seems I was given the time and the space to think about what I was doing. I was forced to remember why I am doing this in the first place. And I'm grateful for that. (Of course, it's a lot easier to be grateful when you can move around on your own steam instead of being victim to people "helping" you with their Ikea vet kit).
The pain I felt was in my back, but what was really hurt was my pride. The walking had become something I checked off each day to say "I am doing something good". It was an activity done for its own sake instead of being a place where I go to meet Another.
The pain I felt was in my back, but what was really hurt was my pride. The walking had become something I checked off each day to say "I am doing something good". It was an activity done for its own sake instead of being a place where I go to meet Another.
I'm mostly healed now and have begun again. But I leave the fantasies at the door and walk only with the beads.
2 comments:
thank you for this! you're speaking to the choir- gosh, motherhood is so damn humbling, above all else. just when you get something for yourself. thank you for you love, honesty! and as always, awesome writing, humor, wit and courage. thank you most of all for sharing....keep sharing. you're not alone- and you're a hellof a lot funnier than most of us at saying it! ;)
these kind of insights are where your prose blooms poetic! (and has the extra touch of grace to chuckle at itself along the way)
now... let's not even joke about real-Nathalie's finale, but the one in Gypsy... given the proper audience...
Brava, Bella mia!
Your Jim
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