Seven weeks ago I underwent surgery to reconstruct my foot and remove the bunion that was the source of the pain. If the pain was bad before, the first day of recovery was awful. I remember when I first realized the local anesthesia had worn off and the full force of the procedure hit me. Some of my best friends came over to visit me, but all I could focus on was the pain. I even had to ask my mom to kick them out because all I wanted to do was cry.
Since that night, I've had a few occasions of similar desperation. As my body physically healed, the toll I took emotionally became increasingly overwhelming. Now, I'm a fairly independent person. I don't like having to rely on other people to do things for me that I should be able to do myself. I dislike asking for help because I view it as a sign of weakness. Spending five weeks on crutches means five weeks of not being able to carry anything on my own. Five weeks of being forced to admit I can't do it all. Five weeks of asking for others' help.
I went without meals because I felt like a burden to those around me. I didn't participate in group events because I simply slowed others down. Being away from home during this time was possibly one of the hardest parts. I knew my education was important, and I needed to be at school in order to graduate on time. However, a huge part of me wanted to go back home and leave only once I was self-sufficient again. I wrestled with God a lot as I looked at where my life was and wondered why it had to be so hard. If He answered, I wasn't listening well enough.
Two weeks ago I was finally cleared to put weight on my foot. Because I had been non-weight bearing for so long, I'd lost a lot of muscle in my foot, ankle, and leg. It's virtually impossible to describe the feeling of walking for the first time in over a month, but I mostly remember it felt freeing. I was still in a walking boot and had very limited mobility, but I was walking. The labored movements were hard and frustrating, but I just had to take one more step, then another, and another. Soon, walking in the boot was no problem.
Today marked another huge step in my recovery. I was able to take the boot off, put a shoe on, and take my first steps with my new foot unassisted by anything. I expected so much more out of those first steps than actually happened. It wasn't so much disappointing as it was a setback. My leg still has little to no muscle tone which makes every step a struggle. I find it amazing how much we all take our bodies for granted. I have to focus on every single step I take as I train my body to do what it used to do so easily.
I've learned so much throughout this experience about myself and the body God gave me. I've let a lot of who I am be defined by what I can do, and when I could no longer do those things, I was lost. I've lost track of my passions and some of the joy that I got from just doing things for fun and the glory of God. He's given me dreams and hopes and abilities that I lost somewhere along the way. Not being able to use my body the way I wanted to helped me realize that there's a lot more that I can do that isn't defined by my walking abilities. I just need to keep my head up, my heart focused, and take on life one step at a time.
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