It would appear that 1980s hair bands tend to inspire most of my posts.
Before it was Poison and now it is Motley Crue. In listening to the song "Home Sweet Home" I got to thinking about what home, or my house, has meant to me, in particular during my recovery. I never really thought about my house very deeply before my accident. I wasn't really the homebody type, more of the out and about kind. In fact, I wanted to sell the house and live out of an RV. But that changed when I got hurt. Recovery sure would have been interesting in an RV. Surely I wouldn't have enjoyed it. So the house was right choice. I think.
As I have written before, one of the stressful moments of my recovery was when we had to move 2 weeks after my accident. Being at my former house was comfortable and familiar but it was an older home with no bathroom on the main level. After the injury, I spent most of my time on the main level, including nighttime, so it presented a challenge because I had to crutch up the stairs when I had to "go". And given I was completely non-weight bearing, going up and down steps was not easy.
Sometimes I just asked for a ride to the local coffee shop to use the bathroom. Pretty sad moment. Additionally, the house had a shower with a tub - also on the second floor - which made it impossible for me to take a shower because I couldn't get my bad leg over and into the tub. Thus I was forced to go and take a shower at my mother in law's. Another sad moment. Moreover, my wife had to drive me to my mother in law's to a take a shower. Yet another sad moment.
I did, however, feel as if I belonged there and it was an appropriate place to carry out the rest of my healing process. It felt, quite simply, like home. We moved into our first house 2 weeks after we were married and lived there for 8 years. All of my 3 kids were born when we lived in the house. We grew into a family in the house. We did projects and made changes and made it our own. It was full of memories. It was a cozy house built in the 1920s that wrapped itself around you. But it was no longer practical. It was a great home for 4 people but really tight for 5. We could no longer creatively make use of the limited space. Every room was tapped, including the basement.
After selling our house to a nice young couple, we moved to a new house with all the needed creature comforts of a bruised and battered individual. I could use the bathroom on the main level. I could enter into the stand alone shower without assistance and comfortably sit and use a shower chair. From a physical comfort standpoint, the move was needed and a much welcomed change of environment.
In addition, it was a good house and not a dramatic change from a location perspective. It was a block and half away from our old house. It was well maintained and owned by the same family for almost 90 years. It was the same style as our old house only bigger. It had all the woodwork and hardwood floors that we liked. Our daily lives would not change. Commutes would be the same. Routes to school would be the same. Friends would remain the same.
However, emotionally speaking it was odd. In some ways, I felt like we didn't belong there. Maybe it was the injury speaking but it was now my home and I could only associate with it as an injured person. I had never enjoyed new kids or or happy memories or birthdays or anniversaries or holidays or just the mundane morning routine. I had nothing grounding me there. I felt like a foreigner. I felt lost. The house almost felt sterile, practically banal. I felt like I did in the hospital.
Even when we got some new appliances and painted some rooms and put in a new patio and fence and sod in the backyard, it felt like the home belonged someone other than me. And perhaps that is always the case in a new house. Perhaps it takes time to make it go from a house to a home. Perhaps only time can bring memories and parties and help the home wrap its arms around you and become part of you. And sometimes that can happen quickly. When you feel healthy and confident and normal. When you aren't, you feel like stranger in your own home.
And that was how I felt because I was hurt. And then we had an issue with the toilet. Then a few lights didn't work. Then we got a little water in the basement. And then we had a nasty property dispute with our next door neighbor. Then the stress got worse. Then the kids called the lady next door, "the bad lady."
Then I wanted to sell the house. Then I knew it wasn't our home. It was a mistake. I was hurt and all these annoying things were happening. I was hurt and needed to be in a comfortable, stress free place where I could recover and care for my family. I was hurt and I hated being at home. Now, I might as well have been living a million miles from home. And I couldn't really go anywhere because I was on crutches and getting out wasn't easy. I was stuck at home I didn't want with a body that didn't work and a head that made Nick Nolte seem sane.
I didn't know what to do.
Then, like anything else in recovery, time seemed to change everything.
I wish I could say I had an epiphany or we mended fences with the lady next door. I didn't. We didn't. We didn't take a vacation and get a better appreciation for home. We simply made some memories and had an anniversary and a couple of birthdays and Christmas. We decorated the house for holidays. We had some laughs. We had a few hundred morning routines. My injury got better and I felt more comfortable. The seasons changed and we fell in love with our fireplace and brand new windows. We watched the snow fall and watched movies. The house became what we first saw in it. The house reminded us why we bought it. The house became part of us and we became part of the house.
And I began to notice that at home is where I didn't have as much pain. I didn't seem to limp as much as I did outside the house. It became a bit of refuge. I really liked working from there. I really liked being there. I slept well and I felt at peace when I was there. It is now, odd enough, to the point where I need to remind myself that I need to leave more often and going to the office is good for my spirit and my career. Home is a place to come back to, not a place to hide.
I know many bruised and battered become shut-ins perhaps because their house is so comfortable and peaceful. We all need that. Or because it is too much to get out. I what it is like to only feel at peace with myself when I am at home. And I know what it feels like not to have a home you want to go home to.. But as much as we need a home, we need to live too. So use it as a place to refuel for your life.
In the end, I think I have learned what a house really is and how much I appreciate the house that I have. And as much as this house and I got off to a rocky start, we have grown to love each other. I understand the house better and its creaks and its quirks and all the things that make it unique. I understand that a house, just like its owners, is not perfect. And that is okay. Because imperfect or not, we as a family need it to work and play and cook and care for each other. We needed it to become a home and it is our home now. And it has helped me recover - little by little - better than any other place could.
I have often said that people don't really own these old homes, they just act as caretakers for a while. A few months ago I would have gladly given up my responsibilities for a song. But now I know we were meant to live in this house and we were destined to be together. Just as my accident has become part of me so has my new home.
It gives new meaning to the song "Home Sweet Home"... The song couldn't have been sung by a more aptly named band. A Motley Crew is exactly what my family has become, thanks to our new house.
Thanks for reading...
Showing posts with label Motley Crue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motley Crue. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
A Mindful Recovery
I have mentioned several times before about the mental and emotional challenges presented in recovery and how these are often ignored for the physical challenges. We are well aware of the physical challenges and they get a lot of attention in terms of massage, physical therapy, exercise, and other bodywork. The physical side of things can change our lives and cause pain and discomfort. That is why doctors are paid so well. But the side of effect of the physical injury is really what this does to our confidence, our mood, and our overall state of mind. It sets us on an emotional roller coaster that is very difficult to exit.
Immediately following my injury and subsequent surgery I maintained a fairly positive attitude. I was, though, quite in shock and couldn't believe my misfortune. I do remember feeling quite helpless at times and kept looking for opportunities to do something besides sit around and wait for the bone to heal. I ended up doing a lot of pull-ups and dips (probably too many) just to make myself feel like I was doing something to physically improve myself. Surprisingly, at the beginning, I thought I could beat the injury quickly. I learned though that I had an injury that wasn't going to heal fast and I learned it the hard way. The original surgeon I had was an ADD nut-job and he threw my head into a tizzy. And the injury was going to take time to heal; it didn't matter how good of shape I was in. I wasn't 25 anymore and I had broken the biggest bone in my body. Thus, I became more of head case than I already was.
To deal with it and feed my mental and emotional side, I threw myself into my job. So much so that I took only 2 days off from work after the surgery and didn't really take any time off until after I got off crutches. In fact, at the time I considered time off from work to be a waste because I couldn't do much anyway beside sit around. So I thought might as well work. This ended up causing me to develop quite a chip on my shoulder for some reason and brought out my inner rebellious side. I stopped cutting my hair and I was listening to Grateful Dead bootlegs like I was 21 again. In reflection, it was a strange time.
And in the end it backfired a bit. I ended up getting upset at someone at work and got myself into some hot water for a while. It was nothing severe or fatal but it dinged my reputation a little. And unfortunately it it continued to feed the chip on my shoulder. I wasn't exactly an angry man but certainly had a lost a lot of respect for authority.
Some of it eased once I got off the crutches and began therapy but still I was annoyed by my limp and my pain and flung myself into ultra problem solver mode. I think my mind was heading there from the beginning but it got worse and worse in the first few months of recovery. I used every free moment to research this or that up about how to fix my hip in one way or another. My mind was constantly thinking about recovery; so much so that I was probably never in the moment. I tend to be a bit scattered and perpetually thinking anyway so it wasn't a stretch, but I think I thought that I could intellectualize myself out of the injury. Perhaps there is some sort of truth to that - I think - but I never turned my mind off, ever. The constant running thoughts in and of itself became a point of stress. I lost sleep. I lost time. I lost precious moments.
Because of that I wasn't even able to enjoy some activities that could have relaxed. I have long been a habitual reader but during the accident I was only able to read 3 books: The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band about the band Motley Crue, Savages by Don Winslow, and Ultimate Rush by Joe Dirt. And what about these 3 books grabbed me I have no idea. Maybe they all have something to do with dirt or grit or rebelliousness. I did read them all very quickly - within a few days, eating up the words but hardly enjoying them. But the books were few and far between. Perhaps they were just a binge sessions to save myself from complete insanity. I don't know but actually sitting down to read seemed like a slow, non productive activity for a while. I am making a comeback now but it is still slow going. I still feel more comfortable grabbing the Ipad and looking up "lateral pelvic tilt" than I do grabbing a book.
I also couldn't pray. To be honest I don't pray every day or every week but I never would say I don't pray at all. I don't think I started again until a few months ago. It seemed like a such a non concrete activity. It didn't seem like it could help me at all. It was all too whimsical. I needed something I could do. So I did a lot of thinking.
This all built up to more and more anger. And more anxiety. The downside of thinking is that is causes the glass to always be quite full and it doesn't take much to cause it spill. 6 months after the injury I was mentally and emotionally worse off than I was immediately after the accident.
Thankfully that balloon finally deflated itself, mostly because I have made a constant effort to turn my head off as much as possible and try some radical acceptance and gratitude. In the end it also led to a much needed job change. I believe the job change would have come with or without the accident but it probably would have happened differently.
In the end I learned that you can't think your way to recovery. It is good to be proactive and be looking for ways to improve and get better but after a certain point it is really about consistency and time. So as long as you are willing to keep at it and not quit, then over time you will get better. But you can't constantly be worrying or thinking about it. Trust me it is the hardest thing to do. You just want to solve the problem. Yet that causes us to miss out on so many great things in life. For me I missed out on some great books and movies and on a daily basis missed out on the little things like a sunset or beautiful bird or beautiful woman walking by. I probably missed out at work because while on conference calls I was multitasking and lost an opportunity to learn something or find an opportunity to advance myself.
The real interesting thing is that while I was (and still am) recovering, I am still alive. I can still take deep breaths and feel my heart beating. I can still be in the moment. I can still choose not get lost in my head. These are things that would have made my recovery much more enjoyable or manageable. Or at least made it easier on myself. Mindfulness - the practice of staying in the moment - is good for everyone but recovery by its nature causes us to naturally retreat inward and protect ourselves. While typically the focus is to do what ever we can to improve the body, equal measures should be taken to improve and relax the mind. Because a relaxed mind leads to relaxed body. And a relaxed body is one that is open to healing and adjustment and balance.
Mindfulness is certainly easier said than done and takes a lot of practice. There are hundreds of books on the topic. Whether you are in recovery or not, the act of being in the moment and turning off the running thoughts can make everything easier. The past is in the past and the future is in the future. All you have is in the present. And being in the present sometimes isn't where the bruised and battered want to be. But it is a heck of a lot better than being dead or dying or with incurable cancer. So consider the alternative. Someone always has it worse than you.
So go and enjoy the little things in life. Notice life around you and be mindful of everything but yourself, at times. Look at it as a mental break you can take at any moment. And it doesn't cost a thing. All it takes is an off switch for the mind. Problem is that it takes a little while to find it.
Thanks for reading...
Immediately following my injury and subsequent surgery I maintained a fairly positive attitude. I was, though, quite in shock and couldn't believe my misfortune. I do remember feeling quite helpless at times and kept looking for opportunities to do something besides sit around and wait for the bone to heal. I ended up doing a lot of pull-ups and dips (probably too many) just to make myself feel like I was doing something to physically improve myself. Surprisingly, at the beginning, I thought I could beat the injury quickly. I learned though that I had an injury that wasn't going to heal fast and I learned it the hard way. The original surgeon I had was an ADD nut-job and he threw my head into a tizzy. And the injury was going to take time to heal; it didn't matter how good of shape I was in. I wasn't 25 anymore and I had broken the biggest bone in my body. Thus, I became more of head case than I already was.
To deal with it and feed my mental and emotional side, I threw myself into my job. So much so that I took only 2 days off from work after the surgery and didn't really take any time off until after I got off crutches. In fact, at the time I considered time off from work to be a waste because I couldn't do much anyway beside sit around. So I thought might as well work. This ended up causing me to develop quite a chip on my shoulder for some reason and brought out my inner rebellious side. I stopped cutting my hair and I was listening to Grateful Dead bootlegs like I was 21 again. In reflection, it was a strange time.
And in the end it backfired a bit. I ended up getting upset at someone at work and got myself into some hot water for a while. It was nothing severe or fatal but it dinged my reputation a little. And unfortunately it it continued to feed the chip on my shoulder. I wasn't exactly an angry man but certainly had a lost a lot of respect for authority.
Some of it eased once I got off the crutches and began therapy but still I was annoyed by my limp and my pain and flung myself into ultra problem solver mode. I think my mind was heading there from the beginning but it got worse and worse in the first few months of recovery. I used every free moment to research this or that up about how to fix my hip in one way or another. My mind was constantly thinking about recovery; so much so that I was probably never in the moment. I tend to be a bit scattered and perpetually thinking anyway so it wasn't a stretch, but I think I thought that I could intellectualize myself out of the injury. Perhaps there is some sort of truth to that - I think - but I never turned my mind off, ever. The constant running thoughts in and of itself became a point of stress. I lost sleep. I lost time. I lost precious moments.
Because of that I wasn't even able to enjoy some activities that could have relaxed. I have long been a habitual reader but during the accident I was only able to read 3 books: The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band about the band Motley Crue, Savages by Don Winslow, and Ultimate Rush by Joe Dirt. And what about these 3 books grabbed me I have no idea. Maybe they all have something to do with dirt or grit or rebelliousness. I did read them all very quickly - within a few days, eating up the words but hardly enjoying them. But the books were few and far between. Perhaps they were just a binge sessions to save myself from complete insanity. I don't know but actually sitting down to read seemed like a slow, non productive activity for a while. I am making a comeback now but it is still slow going. I still feel more comfortable grabbing the Ipad and looking up "lateral pelvic tilt" than I do grabbing a book.
I also couldn't pray. To be honest I don't pray every day or every week but I never would say I don't pray at all. I don't think I started again until a few months ago. It seemed like a such a non concrete activity. It didn't seem like it could help me at all. It was all too whimsical. I needed something I could do. So I did a lot of thinking.
This all built up to more and more anger. And more anxiety. The downside of thinking is that is causes the glass to always be quite full and it doesn't take much to cause it spill. 6 months after the injury I was mentally and emotionally worse off than I was immediately after the accident.
Thankfully that balloon finally deflated itself, mostly because I have made a constant effort to turn my head off as much as possible and try some radical acceptance and gratitude. In the end it also led to a much needed job change. I believe the job change would have come with or without the accident but it probably would have happened differently.
In the end I learned that you can't think your way to recovery. It is good to be proactive and be looking for ways to improve and get better but after a certain point it is really about consistency and time. So as long as you are willing to keep at it and not quit, then over time you will get better. But you can't constantly be worrying or thinking about it. Trust me it is the hardest thing to do. You just want to solve the problem. Yet that causes us to miss out on so many great things in life. For me I missed out on some great books and movies and on a daily basis missed out on the little things like a sunset or beautiful bird or beautiful woman walking by. I probably missed out at work because while on conference calls I was multitasking and lost an opportunity to learn something or find an opportunity to advance myself.
The real interesting thing is that while I was (and still am) recovering, I am still alive. I can still take deep breaths and feel my heart beating. I can still be in the moment. I can still choose not get lost in my head. These are things that would have made my recovery much more enjoyable or manageable. Or at least made it easier on myself. Mindfulness - the practice of staying in the moment - is good for everyone but recovery by its nature causes us to naturally retreat inward and protect ourselves. While typically the focus is to do what ever we can to improve the body, equal measures should be taken to improve and relax the mind. Because a relaxed mind leads to relaxed body. And a relaxed body is one that is open to healing and adjustment and balance.
Mindfulness is certainly easier said than done and takes a lot of practice. There are hundreds of books on the topic. Whether you are in recovery or not, the act of being in the moment and turning off the running thoughts can make everything easier. The past is in the past and the future is in the future. All you have is in the present. And being in the present sometimes isn't where the bruised and battered want to be. But it is a heck of a lot better than being dead or dying or with incurable cancer. So consider the alternative. Someone always has it worse than you.
So go and enjoy the little things in life. Notice life around you and be mindful of everything but yourself, at times. Look at it as a mental break you can take at any moment. And it doesn't cost a thing. All it takes is an off switch for the mind. Problem is that it takes a little while to find it.
Thanks for reading...
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