Complications and Vulnerability

How many life changes are good for a person in a 6 month span? It depends on if they are viewed as good or bad.

On June 28, I misjudged a step, fell onto my outstretched left wrist. Fractured it. Actually destroyed it, pulverized it. Yeah, when I do it, I do it up good.

2 weeks immobilized in a splint before having surgery, with pins and plate. I’m now 3 weeks post surgery. Wow, on the healing path, you’d think. And I guess I am. But between the stiffness in my hand, wrist and fingers from so long being immobilized, and continued swelling, it’s a very slow recovery. I can’t even make a fist. I only thought I was frustrated in my last post about my house.

As I sit here trying to create a positive attitude where I feel none (sorry, negative Nancy has been visiting), I try to find patience and gratitude in this situation. It’s damn hard. I cry constantly trying to stretch my hand, fingers, wrist in pain, frustration and self pity. There must be some lessons I’m supposed to be getting out of this.

Finding the silver lining has been a challenge but it might be this. I have had a tribe of friends, checking on me, visiting me, driving me to appointments. My son I had been “on a break” with, has stepped up, helping, texting more than we’ve ever done. These people have shown me caring and love like never before. So this, this is what I’m supposed to learn. Who my people are.

In my big life change, I have considered moving to Arizona or some place warmer. After this all encompassing, devastating injury, it gives me pause. To be that far away from real help. That’s not to say I can’t make new friends but it’s definitely something to consider that I never gave a real thought to.

I believe in adventures, in independence, your own self strength. But I now have PTSD, near stairs or unstable footing. I am afraid more than I should be of “what if” right now. I hope this fades, and it probably will. The emotional toll has been almost as bad as the physical in many ways. The vulnerability shakes me, its undescribable. But that being said, it’s one day, one hour at a time to get through this.

And I will.

Lone wolf

So it turns out that shuffling your life upside down and inside out, can make you a bit reflective and reticent. At almost 64, I’m discovering there’s only one person that really loved me in my life, my mom. She’s been gone for 37 years. And I now know I’ve struggled to find love for all those years. I know, it sounds pitiful. I’ve searched in the form of a narcissistic husband who, truly did love me the best he could but in the end, left me more depleted.

I love my kids and I see they really are the culmination of their breeding and upbringing, as dysfunctional as it was. I tried to love them but was crippled by all the warpedness (is that a word?) of his issues and mine. One child can compartmentilize like no other, one checks out, the next is just angry. As you talk to your kids as adults, you find their impression of their childhood isn’t how you thought you orchestrated it.

So I’ve failed. I think we all fail to some degree. I raised my kids, now adults, before social media. I had no expectations like social media now puts on people. Did my my mom think she failed? Did she even worry about it? She was putting one foot in front of the other, I think. A little like I do or did, not worrying about the BS today’s parents do.

The moral of the story is at almost 64 yrs old I am not over my mom dying so long ago, I never regained the feeling of any love after that and I’m depleted. This all sounds pathetic and I don’t mean it to. Its just part of the process of getting to know myself. As my “new” life unfolds and develops, I’m finding I need to only depend on myself because in the end, that’s all we can count on. I wanted to be a part of a pack but maybe a lone wolf is where it’s at.