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Today's prompt: How have you treated yourself this year? Have you kept your intentions?
My intention for this year was very simple: to recover as completely as physically possible from the foot/ankle reconstruction surgery I had in late December.
I am doing that. For the first two-plus months of the year, I was totally non-weight-bearing, although somewhat mobile, thanks to my knee scooter and a wheelchair. My wonderful husband prepared meals, did shopping, fed cats, retrieved mail and papers, and helped me as needed while I pretty much sat in his recliner with my foot elevated and read, watched movies, and worked on healing energy flowing through my body and into my leg and foot.
Three months of physical therapy re-started everything: I was becoming mobile, regaining strength, reclaiming my self and letting go of parts I no longer wanted in my life. While my foot is still healing, with some numbness still in the toes and ball of the foot, it is stronger and more sure than it has been for more than a year, and I can walk without pain, although as with anything, when I over-do, I can feel it the next day. It's been a long time since I used the cane too, although I'm not sure I want to try a lot of uneven or sloping walks without a walking stick for balance.
And that's fine: if we need a little support to help balance ourselves, we should use it -- no matter whether physical or emotional or mental or spiritual.
I've been blessed with support this year from friends as well as from my husband, and I am deeply grateful for the visits, the meals, the prayers, the conversations, and the love. Knowing the difference it has made in my recovery, I am determined to help others along the way as they need help.
I am still too hard on myself. I still feel like I should 'accomplish' something every day in a very practical way -- cleaning, exercising, cooking, sorting through the closets and drawers and boxes that contain things that no longer serve our needs and finding new homes for them or discarding them. But I am remembering those early months of this year when it was enough just to 'be,' not to 'do.' There is accomplishment in reading, in resting, in petting kitties, and in contemplation as well.
I continue to understand that mine is the only life I can save, although some days I need to read Mary Oliver's miraculous poem "The Journey" several times to remember that.
“All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” ― Julian of Norwich