Let me back up a bit. The place where I go kayaking starts in an enclosed, calm marina. The first time I rented a kayak, the guy told me I should head to the right as soon as I could... that leads into the lakes and is relatively calm. He then warned me that if I went out straight, I would go right into the river, where the currents can get pretty rough. Over the last few months, I have always headed to the right and wandered around the lake, occasionally heading into the river a bit to test the currents. Today, something compelled me to head directly to the river. I fought the currents, I rolled with them, I eventually used them to make it back into the lake. That's when I had the moment...
Right here...
I was sitting there watching the sun shine on the water, still rolling on the currents (you can't tell in the picture, but the front of the kayak isn't actually touching the water) and I thought about what I had just done.
I was recently accused of saying "I can't" far more often than I used to, and a lot of that is coming from the increased pain, but also from my learning to push those boundaries on my own. Growing up, there are a lot of stories of my mom hearing my brother announcing "that's awesome!" and coming out to see that I had climbed something tall, or me doing something because I was told "girls can't do that". I didn't realize how much my brother had shaped who I was until losing him made my whole world shatter, and I found myself relearning these things as I picked up the pieces. Learning these things as a child was easy... I was learning everything at the time, I was invincible, and I had someone with me (who was a bit ahead, but still learning himself). While I have the support of those around me, I'm on my own this time. No one else is on this path with me, I'm just trying to get back on my feet, and I suddenly have a huge mistrust of invincibility.
So last night, I decided I was going kayaking no matter what my body said this morning. And once I was on the water, I headed directly into the river. Like my last two years, it was a little crazy.. one wave after another hit the kayak and I almost rolled a couple times, but I hung on. I made it to the point where I usually access the river and headed into the lake, still rolling on the currents. It takes some distance for the water to calm... I'm in this distance somewhere in my own life. I took the hits and now I'm trying to make it to the calmer area.
I've been held back for various reasons and my own various thoughts. But I'm also learning that friends with good intentions have held me back a bit.... friends that are at as much of a loss as I am as to what help I need or are still concerned with my healing process. The water doesn't care. I have to take care of myself, I have to remember the things I've learned.. to keep moving, to keep myself upright, to move in the right direction. It's always there to catch me if I fall and it doesn't disappear if I have to turn around to try again, but it's not going to cut me any slack.
And in that moment, I realized that's what I need.
Learning and accepting the wheelchair or crutches is going to take a while, just because I'm still in limbo on the fate of my legs and I refuse to jump in fully until I'm more confident I won't have to start all over. Again. I will need help, it's the nature of the beast. I just don't need to be coddled.. I do need to learn these things and I can't do that if I'm not allowed to try. For the last few months, I have actually been celebrating the moments where I'm left alone so I can clear a lunch table, or pick something up, or figure out how to reach something, or scope out how I'm going to leave an area, or get myself something before my company comes back. I'm quite proud of myself when I'm actually asked to do these simple things because it means I'm being seen as a person, and not as a person in a wheelchair.
As for the personal healing I need to do... keep the hugs coming, but stop acting like I'm going break! When someone pauses on a word and changes direction, or apologizes for bringing up my brother, or doesn't know how to respond because I do, or asks if it's okay to talk about something, it makes the healing a conscious effort. It make me feel like I should be reacting differently... kind of like when a kid falls; if you react, they think it's time to cry. I have to live the rest of life without my brother and I need to learn how to do that, while still remembering him and acknowledging that 33 years of my memories have him there. Just like learning things with the wheelchair and the crutches, I can't do that if I'm not allowed to try.
Basically I'm asking you to be the water. Be there to catch me, understand when I have to try again (I'm doing a lot of testing different things right now), but don't cut me any slack. If you wouldn't have done it for me two years ago (or even 10 months ago), at least let me try. And I know it's hard, but wait for me to ask for help.... feel free to stay close because I might need help fast, but let me have my confidence back, the control over myself.
That's been a major point that's been lacking. Confidence, and some frustration, is what led me out to the river this morning and it is what kept me there.
Confidence is what is going to get me back to saying things like "I don't know if I can do that 'dangerous thing', but I'll give it a shot!" And hopefully I can find someone in the area to announce loud enough for my mom to hear, "that's awesome!"
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