For the past two plus years, since the car accident and subsequent shoulder dislocation, two surgeries, broken arm and more therapy than I ever cared to go through in my life, my function has been dramatically impacted. I've spent most of the last two years in bed when I wasn't at work struggling to get through my day.
Prior to the accident, I was 70 pounds lighter. I exercised for 90 minutes a day. I took my kids to the park and ran around the house chasing them. We went hiking as a family. Hubby and I played golf. I sewed. I made stained glass. I went to glass blowing classes. And then everything changed in an instant. I didn't know who I was or where I was going (the definition of transition). I went into a deep depression that despite medication, I'm not 100% sure I'm completely out of.
The past month, I've been slowly regaining my life. I can sew now. I tried stained glass last week, and I can do that too! I'm rusty, but it will come back. I'm working in the yard and gardening (although my body isn't as excited about this as my heart is). I went back to work, and it was amazing what I could do again. I still need to lay down when I do too much, but I'm so much closer to who I was. It's been wonderful being able to DO again.
Granted, I took up new hobbies to keep myself occupied - painting, photography, blogging, and I even learned a little photoshop along the way. Those skills saved me from drowning in the chronic pain, but they didn't define who I was. They were substitutes. I'm glad I learned them, but they didn't solve the problem at hand. They were a coping strategy - one I am profoundly grateful for. Eating was my other coping strategy, but that's another post.
Last night I was searching for a photograph I had planned to edit, and I stumbled across pictures I had never seen before. They were pictures my mom had taken that I had offered to work on for her. We were at Build A Bear with the kids - their first trip. There was a woman in the photos I didn't recognize - literally DID NOT recognize. She was thin, had curly hair, she was working with my child. I kept looking at that photo. Who was she? I flipped to the next photo. She had on Crocs. My black crocs. I realized, she was me. ME!
Most of the pictures I have don't have me in them - b/c I was taking them. I have pictures of me, but I've seen them a million times. There is no surprise in viewing them. I know what I looked like on that day. I know I was thin back then. I know, I know. The nagging voice in my head telling me I need to lose the weight again always grows louder when I view those old photos. I have a well placed wall of protection I put up in preparation for hearing that voice that makes me feel so bad when I see those old photos.
Only this time, when I saw that old photo of myself - there were no walls. No defenses. No nagging voice. Just curiosity - who was this woman? Nothing could prepare me for the truth that had been staring back at me in the mirror for so long. I was shocked, truly shocked, at the image of what I used to be.
It's just a picture, I know. It's more than that though. It's a picture of who I used to be. An image that perfectly captured the woman I was. The woman I no longer I am. Only, given what I've been through, she's the woman I will never be again.
Once you've been through a major life disruption, even if you regain all of your old self, you can never go back to being just that person because you are different now. You have more life experience. You have new scars (be they emotional or physical).
All this time, I've been trying to find my way back to who I was before all this started. I thought that going back to who I was would resolve my issues with who I was forced to become. I thought going back would allow me to go forward. Now I realize that going back is simply, going back. It's no kind of forward at all. But now I'm not sure how to go forward. I'm not sure even of which direction to turn. And I find myself, more than a little lost between the shore of what was and the shore of what will be. And I don't really know what to do about that which makes me feel like I'm adrift. And I really don't like being adrift. I'm a focused, driven, purposeful sort of person. Aimless drives me crazy because its the antithesis of ME - and ME is who I so desperately want to BE!
I'm smack dab in the middle of 'in the meantime'...
What about you - have you ever been lost in transition? What did you do? How did you handle it?