There's a diffrence between a failure and a
fiasco. A failure is merely the absence of success. Any fool can
achieve failure. But a fiasco, a fiasco is a disaster of epic
propotions. A fiasco is a folk tale told to others to make other
people feel more alive because it didnt happen to them.
Im hobbled. Stuck on the couch unable to do much of anything, weighted down by a medieval torture device known as a surgical boot! How in the world did I get here? It occurred to me that I've been hobbled a lot longer than the past three weeks. To be honest, I've been hobbled for over a year and a half since the fiasco (see above quote) known as my social work career in June 2010. So here I am: a hobbled fiasco. And then...
And then it really came down to two options: saw off my offending foot (which believe me, I considered) or do something. ANYthing. It came down to the two questions I asked of my clients: what CAN you do, and what are you going to do instead. Remarkably, I didn't bury my head back under the covers but found some seated yoga stretches online and started to do them. I did some gentle ankle stretches for my foot. I started to post positive messages instead of the "I'm broken" ones. And while lying in Shava Asana this morning a voice said,"get up."
"uh, no I'm not getting up! I just started."
"GET up,"
"no" breathe...
"GET UP!!!"
That's when I realized that the universe was trying to tell me something and maybe I should listen. You know, get up.
So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You think I care about that? I do understand. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling.
And it occurs to me lying there in corpse pose that I have made a mistake. The failure wasn't in the job, it was in the leaving. I should have stayed and worked it out. I should have stood up for myself and insisted that I WAS a good social worker and I could do the job and not allow every comment made to me or about me to chip away at me until I was mere dust to be shaken off everyone's boots.
I gave up and that is the true fiasco. So in my best therapist voice: what CAN you? What can you do instead?
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Practicing Patience
A brand new year. A time to reflect, set intentions and make resolutions. Some come out of necessity, some the universe, in its infinite wisdom, force upon you even if it has to trap and immobilize you - in a sort of cosmic placing you in a corner for being naughty until you have learned your lesson.
I've been hobbled. Bunion surgery has left me trapped on the couch caught between the sweet, soft exhale of the letting go of responsibility and the slow simmer of water in an unwatched pot of unused energy waiting for healing to occur.
After ruling out that I have sustained any further damage in a fall taken in my push to hasten "getting back to normal" or have a more serious post-op complication of a blood clot, I'm hit with even worse news: I'm just healing slowly and am sentenced to two more weeks (at least) of non-weight bearing, crutches, cold therapy machine existence to be served out on the couch. Everything else is on hold (including my life) and there is not a thing I can do about it. No amount of ranting, crying or begging can will my foot into health again, force the swelling down or decrease the pain. No, the foot, which has caused me such heartache over the last year and half even stealing my one great passion (running) seems bound and determine to keep me hobbled until it is good and ready to release me from my couch prison.
Out of this forced confinement a New Year's resolution is not so much made as thrust upon me: Practice Patience. Only patience will get me through the next few weeks of forced rest, physical therapy, and teaching my body to run again, as patience is not a quality I readily posses, I am not amused.
What I do know is that the universe has a wicked sense of humor, so it scares me to think of what new and special ways it will come up with to each me to be patient if I refuse to listen to it now. At least my new Ipad and a marathon of the British sitcom Absolutely Fabulous makes tuning my couch prison into a place of learning life lessons easier.
I've been hobbled. Bunion surgery has left me trapped on the couch caught between the sweet, soft exhale of the letting go of responsibility and the slow simmer of water in an unwatched pot of unused energy waiting for healing to occur.
After ruling out that I have sustained any further damage in a fall taken in my push to hasten "getting back to normal" or have a more serious post-op complication of a blood clot, I'm hit with even worse news: I'm just healing slowly and am sentenced to two more weeks (at least) of non-weight bearing, crutches, cold therapy machine existence to be served out on the couch. Everything else is on hold (including my life) and there is not a thing I can do about it. No amount of ranting, crying or begging can will my foot into health again, force the swelling down or decrease the pain. No, the foot, which has caused me such heartache over the last year and half even stealing my one great passion (running) seems bound and determine to keep me hobbled until it is good and ready to release me from my couch prison.
Out of this forced confinement a New Year's resolution is not so much made as thrust upon me: Practice Patience. Only patience will get me through the next few weeks of forced rest, physical therapy, and teaching my body to run again, as patience is not a quality I readily posses, I am not amused.
What I do know is that the universe has a wicked sense of humor, so it scares me to think of what new and special ways it will come up with to each me to be patient if I refuse to listen to it now. At least my new Ipad and a marathon of the British sitcom Absolutely Fabulous makes tuning my couch prison into a place of learning life lessons easier.
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