Later today is “D” day … The day I’ve been waiting for for just about two months now. Well, I haven’t actually been waiting for it for two months, but let’s just say that I’ve been waiting for this day to be fixed, done, over with for a LONG time.
Almost two months ago, I injured myself during the CrossFit Games 13.4 Open WOD. It was a freak mis-step that caused my knee to snap and buckle and take me out just like that … ONE teeny mis-step.
In these last few weeks being out and sidelined from doing what I love most – running, working out, kickboxing, crossfitting, etc. – I’ve been battling a lot of inner demons that at times got the best of me, and brought out an UGLY side that I didn’t like or enjoy. Today I start to come back and kick those demons in the teeth for the turmoil they have caused me! I’m done. I’m done being bitter. I’m done moaning and complaining. I’m just done because I know that what’s done is done, and I do ultimately believe that everything happens for a reason. No accidents.
12 hours from now I’ll have been rolled into surgery and starting my recovery both physically and mentally. As much as I’ve come to love Blue, my beloved hinged knee brace, I love being physical more, and I need to put her away to begin my healing.
Thank you to my friends and family who have put up with an impossible side of me that I never knew existed – not like this anyway. I’ve never taken my health for granted. I’m thankful that I am healthy and strong. It’s time to get healthier and rebuild myself … I’m coming back – better, stronger, faster, wiser …
I wish I were stronger. I wish my head was screwed on straighter and tighter. But the truth is is that I’m weak and I wish that I could just rip my head off my neck.
I’m so NOT myself. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Right this second … right this very second, I can tell you that I. Don’t. Care. That I actually don’t give a flying fuck and I am just done.
There. It’s out. I don’t care and I just want to crawl in a fucking hole and stay there.
This isn’t anything new. I have a history of suicidal ideation. My very first suicidal attempt was when I was 8 years old. I’ve wanted to die since before that.
I’m not a fan of living. I try hard to fake it, but honestly, I could really care less if I’m alive or dead. Ironic for a nurse, isn’t it? I earn my living caring for and saving others, when I can barely keep my own self alive.
Yes … I know. I know. How dare I? How dare I write these words when there are others who are dying and truly want to live? How dare I!
I NEVER asked to be born. I’ve known this since I was a small child. Here’s more irony … I was always told that I was not meant to be and if it were not a crime, then I would’ve been killed. True story.
I don’t feel my worth. I know that I have a good life. I know that I am blessed. I know all this. I’m not stupid, I just don’t want to be here. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be here.
I am just an individual taking up space. I am wasting space. I’m just here, on Earth, waiting to leave it. I have no direction, nor do I feel as if I have a purpose. I have NO clue what my lot in life is. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m just here; floundering like a fish out of water; wasting time and space. I wish I didn’t feel like that, but I do.
Money doesn’t buy happiness. I know this because I’ve tried. I’ve spent a lot of money buying shit that I don’t really need or want over the years. I keep thinking that I can just keep buying stuff to fill whatever void it is I’m trying to fill. In the last week it was 6 pairs of shorts, a new ring to replace the one I lost, new purse, a new wallet when the one I have is perfectly fine, tank tops, iPad, books … I have money and things and I’m not happy.
On the outside, I look like a perfectly “normal” human being, but what’s “normal?” Most days I wake up and just go thru the motions … faking it, pretending to be this living, breathing, happy human being, when deep down inside, I’m not. I’m a miserable, depressed, and unhappy person. I don’t get it.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m severely depressed – I have been since I was a little kid. But yet, here I am … still alive, but not alive. I am walking dead. I am just a shell.
People would be quick to point out that I have this “ideal” life … Great husband, great kids … what about them, right? Yes, they’re right to point that out. I love my husband and my kids, but is that enough? It’s enough for me to NOT do anything stupid, how’s that?
I’ve cared for a lot of people who have attempted suicides in my line of work. I’ve also cared for a lot of people who have attempted and FAILED at their suicides. If I really, really wanted to … I would know exactly how to do it and succeed. But it’s just not worth it to cause my family undue pain like that. So it’s up to me to figure it out and just keep on trying to find my place in this madness, and to stifle the voices in my head.
I’ve made it this far … How far can I go? It’s so painful. It is so painful. I believe that this is why I can handle and why I cravephysical pain because the pain of living is far worse than any physical pain. I need this pain to sustain me. It’s what keeps me going. It’s the only thing that has kept me going all these years, and I’ve been without it these last two months … I have had no outlet, and I have had no pain. I’m just done and I don’t know if it will ever make any sense. I’m having surgery on Wednesday and I’m seriously contemplating asking my surgeon to do my surgery WITHOUT anesthesia. Yeah … I know.
I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. I feel as if I’m suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning. I just can’t … It’s been so long. It’s been so long and I’m tired. I. am. tired. And I just want to let go … and fall …
Listen, I know that this all sounds dramatic. I know that it’s my ego, my frustration, my sadness, my anger all talking at once. I’ve been out of commission for TWO months now and I don’t have an outlet. I don’t know what to do with myself. I keep trying and trying to hang on and be positive. Here’s the thing, I know that I sound irrational. I’m reading this and thinking that I sound ridiculous, but my head is another story. I feel as if I’m not really going to 100% get my thoughts back together and recover psychologically. It sucks – SUCKS – being injured, being sidelined. It’s so devastating to me because I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to be still. Even though I know that others have had the same injury as I have and have recovered, I still feel alone. I still feel as if I’m not going to recover completely. I also feel as if although I may recover and go on to workout again that somehow I may reinjure myself. I feel as if I’m falling behind those who are still working out. I feel as if I’m not going to catch up to them, that I’ll be lifting less and not running as fast. I’m anxious that I’ve been still for so long. I feel as if so much of my identity surrounds working out, running, and crossfit that I’m not sure I know who I am. I feel as if I’m truly suffocating. And I’m depressed … severely depressed. So that’s where I’m at … I know it’s dramatic and I really don’t care because I can’t lie. I can only express the feelings that I have and that I know. That’s where I am … and I’m about ready to let go … But I know … I know that life will go on and that I’ll recover and this will only be a sliver of a thought in my memory … I know that one day it will all make sense …
“Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right.” Henry Ford said that and it came to mind today because something happened that stirred up a lot of emotions within me.
I work in a volatile environment. The Emergency Room is an environment where a lot of emotions can get heated, and the atmosphere can change in the blink of an eye. Hospitals were once considered a place of safe haven, but in reality, they not really a “happy” place to be for most people. People usually only end up there because they’re sick or because they were injured … sometimes severely. So you never really know what can happen.
The workbooks from my classes.
It is because of this that I, as well as other Health Care workers who work in volatile environments, are required by JCAHO (Joint Comission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organization) to be able to prevent violence in the health care setting. So … the solution is to mandate their employees to attend training to be able to diffuse violent situations, or to protect themselves should we/they become a victim.
I was in a class today, my second one in two weeks, but for a different place of employment (I work in two different hospitals). It’s funny how in my first class, when the instructor asked, “What would you do, if you were in a situation with a violent individual?” and the majority of the individuals, those that knew me, all jokingly (??) responded, “I’d go get Row.!” Really? And then again today, I was in a class where I knew only a few people, yet someone who only knows of me remarked something similar, that they had been forewarned about my “skills.” Wow.
It was during my class today that I had an epiphany of sorts … something happened that reinforced my belief in myself. I was in a class with a nurse who was afraid. She was afraid of what would happen if a situation (violent, irate patient) were to really spiral out of control; afraid to let herself get into a situation where she would have to protect herself or her staff. I felt her apprehension. I felt her fear emanating from her. Our classroom setting was FAR from real, but her fear was palpable and I didn’t like it. So, while in the middle of her voicing her over-reactions, I told her not to worry, to just run, to get herself out of that situation. I’m not sure that she liked my comment, I could see it in face, but I went on, telling her that she was making the situation worse by being so fearful and letting on that she was scared. I told her that it was okay if she was afraid, that it was okay to call for help, but she had to leave the situation. My comment was not intended to come out mean, or condescending, but I wanted her to know that she had to leave the situation because if I could feel the fear from her in a non-threatening classroom situation, imagine how heightened her fear would be in a real life situation.
The thing is, is that although I’m small, I refuse – REFUSE – to be a victim. I’m small, however, I am so much stronger than I let on. I am not a fan of women who play small and meek. Stand up. If I’m ever in a situation where someone is trying to take me down and wants to hurt or kill me or someone that I love, you better believe that I’m going to fight. I’m going to do whatever it takes – WHATEVER THE F#@K IT TAKES – to get up.
So … I train. I train because I am afraid. I train because I don’t want to be afraid. I train to get rid of stress, anger, anxiety, to look good, to escape, to live longer, to be stronger … I train because I don’t want to look like a victim. I don’t want to be that small, meek woman who’s a easy target. I want someone to look at me and think, “Let’s go mess with someone else.”
During my training, it was amazing and empowering for me to hear things like, “You’re strong.” “Don’t mess with Row.” “Watch how she changes when she gets into fight stance.” or “I was warned about you. Mike Miller (one of my training partners and instructors) told me about you.”
During my training, I was used as an “example” during the hands-on portion of the class. My reaction times are quick and I’m not afraid to be placed in situations. It’s during this time, when I enter into “fight stance” that my demeanor changes and I become someone or something else. The more you practice and train, the more comfortable you become. With that being said, if you are not comfortable, it’s okay to be afraid and to get yourself out of that situation. It’s okay to call for help. I would do the same if I knew that I could not control the situation. I’d still call out for help just because I know that there is power and safety in numbers when in a dangerous situation. The goal, my goal, is NOT to look like a badass. My goal is to get out alive, safely. My goal is to go home to my family in ONE piece.
I don’t believe that it serves any woman, or anyone for that matter, to play small. I know so many women who don’t own their power. OWN IT. You are so much STRONGER than you believe yourself to be. Never believe that you can’t or that you’re not able to do something … When that thought first creeps into your mind, you’re DONE and you don’t ever want to be DONE in that situation.
**Note: The classes that I took for my jobs were both for NON-VIOLENT techniques to diffuse a situation. I would NEVER jeopardize myself, my license, or any patient in the workplace setting. I would protect myself, yes, but seriously, my jobs don’t care about my self-defense or fighting skills. They want more to make sure that everyone is safe, and I understand that. The goal is to go home in one piece, remember?
They say that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. I sometimes wish that it would just kill me … strike me down … kill me dead … I know, I’m sorry. Reverse. Rewind … I know that my life IS good. I lead a really good life. I am blessed beyond belief with a great husband, four kiddos that are healthy and wonderful, I have a great career, and I am healthy sans my left knee. I have no right to complain when I know that so many would want to walk in my shoes, and live the life that I live. What’s talking right now is my complete exhaustion, frustration, and emotions. What’s talking LOUDEST is my ego. I just seriously miss my workouts because it is something that I constantly crave. Trust me, I count my blessings everyday and thank God for EVERY little thing.
It is something that I constantly crave and I seriously am in withdrawals!
It’s been over a month, almost a month and a half since I injured myself and I still ask, “WHY?” Why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? What lesson is it that I am supposed to learn in all of this? Why? I don’t understand. Maybe I’m not supposed to understand. Maybe I’m supposed to feel more empathy towards those who are seriously injured. Maybe I’ve been too callous in my thoughts of others, or maybe I got greedy in my desperation to keep up with the younger girls, and in my desperation to improve because my mind is constantly comparing myself to others and needs to STOP. Maybe I’m supposed to really rest. Maybe … I hate to admit this, but maybe I’m really just afraid. I don’t know. All I know is that I am NOT myself. I don’t even recognize myself. I barely even want to crawl out of bed to do anything because I’ve been so depressed. I don’t openly admit that to anyone, but yea, there it is … I’m severely depressed. All I really want to do is lay there and do absolutely nothing. I’m really good at hiding my feelings. For one, I don’t openly share much about me. I don’t really believe that people are genuinely that interested in me either. I just do my thing, mind my own business, stay in my own bubble. But yet … WHY?
No other way around it … When in doubt dig deep and barrel through it!
I watch others who have the capability to workout and have the potential to do great things, but yet they just sit there – happier to enjoy the comforts of food and the softness of their bodies. I take care of those whose bodies have given up from years and years of it’s owner’s abuse, misuse, and disuse. I take care of those who have basically let their bodies rust out – too many years of eating the wrong foods, watching a little too much television, providing it with little or no sun, hydrating it with the wrong kind of fluids, and definitely not providing it enough activity. It saddens me that people don’t care enough about themselves to take care of themselves, however, when they’re really sick *then* it’s an emergency and want to be saved. Seriously? NOW it’s an emergency? It should have never gotten to the point where your heart is now failing, your lungs can’t provide you with enough oxygen, where your trunk can’t hold you up and your frame is falling apart. I have never in my entire life wanted to be one of *those* individuals. I’ve always been active, athletic, and strong. True, I could eat better, but for the most part my diet’s not the worst. Fitness has always been my passion from a very young age.
So I ask myself again, “Why? Why me?” What did I do to deserve this? I’m sure that I can ask until I’m blue in the face and still never be able to completely figure it out, or ever get a straight answer. I did everything right except for ONE wrong foot plant … ONE. I’m so angry. I’m so, so angry. It’s my own fault. I can’t blame anyone else except for me. I’m sure there’s a lesson here, but WHAT? What is this lesson? Patience? Tolerance? Empathy? I know that there’s a reason, but I’m so caught up in my own little pity party that I can’t see straight at this moment because my ego keeps talking and won’t STFU! And the more I think about things, I think that, yes, I know that surgery WILL fix my knee, but what about my mind? There is NO surgery to fix one’s thoughts …
SNAP OUT OF IT, ROW.! My ego needs to just Shut The F#@K Up already! (insert *hard bitchslap*)
Here’s a different perspective … I AM thankful. I am thankful for my Physical Therapist, Todd, who got the ball rolling for me – he was wise enough to know that I needed serious help and that I needed it STAT! It’s because of Todd that I was able to get into see my Primary Doctor, get an order for a STAT knee xray, and get a STAT orthopedics referral. Without Todd, I would have waited … I would’ve waited and just asked one of my ER Docs to take a look at my knee one night at work.
I am thankful for my health insurance. I am a very blessed individual to have free coverage for myself and my family. Not only that, my family and I are also covered by my husband’s health insurance. Double coverage … BONUS! I am thankful that my co-pays are $5.00. I have witnessed a lot of individuals whose co-pays are $50, $70, $100, and even $200 or more. I feel bad for people who come to the ER for very “minor” complaints and end up having to pay these outrageous co-pays. Um … that’s what a clinic is for, what going to your Primary Doctor is for. I’m really sorry that your co-pay is $200 and you got a 15 minute visit with my ER Doc for your complaint of ear pain. I can not complain about my health insurance coverage.
I am thankful that I am still able to walk and even work. I know that some individuals have injures that are far more severe than mine. I also know that there are some whose injures are not as severe as mine but have taken them out completely. I sometimes wonder about that – if they fake more pain than they actually have so that they can have more time off work? Here’s my thinking about that … eventually all that faking will catch up to you and the pain will become real, and the injury will become as severe and as painful as you make it out to be. It’s why I can’t ever lie about being sick or about being injured. For one, I would not know how to fake being in “that” much pain. I’m one of those people who believe that if you lie when you call in sick, that you WILL end up sick. It’s just not worth it. I can work, I can walk, there’s no need to lie and pretend.
I am thankful that I have no pain. I am slightly weirded out when my knee catches and buckles – that is NOT a very nice feeling.
Blue.
I am thankful for my hinged knee brace, Blue. Yes, I named my knee brace, what of it? Without Blue, my knee would constantly buckle and I really would not be able to walk. I wear that thing at least 22 hours a day.
I am thankful for the “forced rest” because I really needed to just stop and rest my shoulder. People forget that I have a shoulder injury also. It’s why I haven’t been able to do upper body exercises as people have suggested. Yep.
I am thankful for my friends who have had knee injuries an knee surgeries who have taken the time to talk to me about their experiences. They have listened to me, let me cry on their shoulders, let me ask numerous questions, and never let me feel as if I were alone in this whole ordeal.
I am thankful for my Orthopedic Doc/Surgeon, Dr. Wilkins. He made me feel at ease, and assured me that he would take care of me and that I would be okay.
So … see … in the darkness of all this craziness, I have discovered some good things. But I just let my feelings, fears, and my ego get in the way.
Henry Rollins said, “There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength.” I have to remind myself that I am so much stronger than what I believe myself to be. I am afraid, but I am going to do WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET THE F#@K UP! This will NOT kill me. This will NOT keep me down. I am going to unf#@k my mind and I am going to slay this dragon because I know and believe that I can! I am stronger than this challenge, and this challenge is making me even STRONGER! Believe that!
My surgery is coming up … One week. One week! Let’s do this. Let’s get it done so I can move forward and get back out there! I’m ready! I am sooooo ready!
“If you are paralyzed with fear, it’s a good sign. It shows you what you have to do.” ~Steve Pressfield
And so the saga of my knee continues into April … We pick up where we left off in March. March ended on such a bad note that I’m looking for a glimmer of hope in April.
Protesting by not sitting in the exam chair. 5 days post injury.
On Tuesday, April 2nd, I finally get in to see the Ortho doc and he has the same look on his face as he inspects my knee. Then he’s talking about surgery! What the hell? April’s not looking too great … I say, “Look, you don’t even know what’s wrong with it, you can’t talk to me about surgery yet.” He gives me a sympathetic look as if to say, “I do know.” He talks about sending me for an MRI and how he’ll call me with the results as soon as they results come in. So … a week to get into see the Ortho doc, now another week until the MRI. Wow! Time. Time. Thank God it wasn’t anything “serious,” right? It’s just MY knee. MY KNEE and that’s serious to ME!!! Fuckdamnit!
In the meantime, I sell my bib for the Elk Grove, Running Of the Elk Half Marathon. I was looking forward to running that race, and seeing my beautiful friend, Shiloh. It was a such a nice run last year. (Sigh.)
I get the MRI done the following Wednesday. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but then again, I had worked the night before so I really slept thru the entire procedure. The Ortho doc calls me the following day but I wasn’t able to answer my phone so he left me a message telling me that the MRI showed a meniscus tear AND and ACL tear! Wow! I wasn’t expecting that at all. Not at all.
This wasn’t supposed to happen to ME. I’m healthy and I’m strong. This Wasn’t Supposed To Happen To ME! Here’s the thing, working out, running, exercising … I’ts such a HUGE part of me and who I am that it’s like breathing … It’s automatic and I just do it. And to have had it taken away just like that … well, it’s like suffocating. It’s as if I can not breathe! It’s as if I am dying. All the while, I’m seething. I’m mad at myself for whatever it is that I did to cause this. I’m mad at God for allowing this to happen to ME. I’m mad because I have to have surgery to repair this. I’m mad because there is no other way to fix it. If I leave it alone, it may take years for it to heal or not ever heal correctly. If I get it fixed, it may not be the same either. I’m worried. I’m upset. I’m sad. I’m all discombobulated. While I wait, I’m not allowed to do anything, more specifically, I can’t do anything because the range of motion in my left knee is so limited and because it’s so unstable. Trust me, I tried. I tried and all it did was get out of joint and cause my lower leg to collapse underneath me. I do have exercises that my Physical Therapist has me doing to keep the muscles in my quad and around my knee strong, but it’s really not the same. I haven’t had a good sweat in three weeks.
Other things are happening all around me also – the biggest things being that my mother-in-law is very ill, and my daughter still has further testing to endure to determine the cause of her seizures. So in actuality, my knee is the very least serious of all the problems happening in my world. So I cannot and will not cry or moan or complain, because I know that my knee injury could be so much worse. As it is now, aside from it’s instability, I have absolutely NO pain. I do have pain occasionally when it gets out of alignment, but I’m pretty good about keeping it in the brace and I’ve found a way to compress it so it’s actually stable for the majority of the time.
My Orthopedic Surgery consult happens in a couple days. I’ve got a ton of questions running thru my head that I need to get down on paper. My playing research detective on the web isn’t doing me any justice, neither is talking to others. What I’ve learned is that the majority of people that I’ve spoken to that have had any kind of knee surgery have had positive experiences and good results and have healed well. Everyone’s knees are different, everyone’s musculature is different, every injury is different. No one is the same. So what’s happening here is that I’m psyching myself out and causing unnecessary anxiety. It’s causing me to over-think and plan for things that I really can’t plan because I don’t know what will happen.
I know that my injury is not life threatening, but it’s still an injury and it still matters to me. I know that I cannot burden others with my miscellaneous whinings about how upset I am when there are others out there suffering. I met a fellow gym rat yesterday who herniated C4 and C5 and has to see a neurosurgeon. There are so many with problems much more serious, so my thinking is what right do I have to say anything? But it matters to ME. It doesn’t make it any less serious because of the fact that it’s not life threatening. Pretending is exhausting, but the truth is, I haven’t been sleeping. I’m actually NOT sleeping. I’m not tired enough at the end of the day to go to sleep, and when I finally do fall asleep, it’s already time to get up. I’m tired of pretending that it’s all okay when in reality it’s NOT. The truth is, is that I’m just as scared as if it were life threatening because being active is all that I know. My lack of activity has affected me greatly. I no longer have an outlet to work out my daily frustrations and excess energy. I miss sweating and working out so hard that I get to the point where I want to puke. I feel defeated. I feel lost. I feel as if I seriously want to just lay down and die. Overdramatic much? I know, but it’s how I feel so you don’t get to discount my feelings because I seem overdramatic to you. You do not live in my body. You do not know what or how I feel. You do not perceive things as I do. I work hard to only put up a positive front and not say a negative word about this whole thing. I go to work, and I get by everyday without complaint. So if I want to be overdramatic on my blog if I choose to, then I will. I am allowed to grieve. It is in the grieving that I can leg go and regroup.
I was hopeful that April would bring some showers to wash away the yuck that March brought. Rain is usually symbolic for the washing away of, or cleansing of our problems and troubles. There’s still time, April is not quite over yet. I’m still hopeful. My little blog was helpful in my catharsis and the letting go and letting me let go of the things that I cannot control
4 more days until my Ortho surgery consult. Four more days … Until then, I will remind myself of this …
What’s done is done. Time to just Suck It Up and move forward.
To be continued …
*** Update *** I had my Ortho Surgery consult last Friday and it wasn’t as bad as the MRI made it out to seem. I mean, it’s still bad ’cause I’m injured, but the Ortho Surgeon was able to ease my anxiety a little. Next up … Surgery. Gonna schedule it soon. Can you hear that? It’s me breathing a sigh of relief and the weight being lifted off my shoulders. Once again … To Be Continued …
Running Code 3 