Saturday, April 7, 2012

Protection and Power

I've written before about the quantum shift in approaching my health when my fight against depression gave way to a showdown with the spine. The warrior goddess wielding a flaming sword all blazing with magic and metaphor gave way to a zen willow relaxing into the flow of storm winds. It's still challenging to surrender. All my life, wellness has meant mental health. The asthma & allergies, the limb atypical, the anomalies & surgical scars were all given, firmly carved in bone, leaving my brain as the only part needing any attention. The tact that worked was the fiery attack.

power through it

was my mantra, from when the first teen blood came with new, untamed moods
to the last push birthing my daughter, and finally exhausting the fire of pregnancy.

Now I'm a delicate creature, and I loathe it with all my being. Tears and panic never made me feel so weak as this remade spine. When I have a pain surge- and this past two weeks has been the worst since the operation, it's always because I ignore the care I need to take. I let emotional stress build to crushing weight. Or, positively, I fix on a goal and I power through it. Weekend before last, I reorganized Molly's room, then I woke the next day reeling from pains & dysfunction. The weeks following were incredibly hard with bad chemicals at play (see PMDD posts, but the short story is estrogen toxicity) My legs have been an electrical storm of searing pains and short circuited numbness. Today it's finally subsiding after peaking yesterday.

My focus is on protecting this healing. I feel better, and so I want to jump into the piles of to-do lists littering my life. But waiting is. I'm easing my way in. Small work, lots of breaks.

redefining power 

as the wisdom to listen. The flaming GoddessSwordMind is there in my core, fueling. I honor that self. But around her is a new body paradigm. Solid and still, bones are weaving new structure and my muscles must rest and strengthen carefully to protect this work.

I'm laughing, reading/writing, because I've written this post in different colors several times. I'm remembering when the anger at the bed rest finally broke me and I just relaxed all over. I'm sure I wrote this at least once since returning to the shop.

I'm laughing and peaceful reading/writing because I understand now that these lessons circle back again & again. They aren't a thing one just knows. They are lessons of experience that have to be lived a few times, maybe a hundred times, to integrate.

{Note: This post was written before my diagnosis of phocomelia. Read about the shockingly wonderful moment when I was accidentally diagnosed, or read all my posts about my strange body.}

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