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Thursday, August 31, 2017

learning how to rest

Wow.  I just read my last blog from a little over a year ago.  I was preparing to run my 2nd Hood to Coast race with Team World Vision.  My passion and excitement for the race in 2016 is the same as my passion and excitement for 2017.  The difference is, I didn't run this year.  I was planning on running the race right up until 12 hours before I was supposed to board a plane for Oregon.  Right now, I should be recovering from my 3rd Hood to Coast race and then gearing up to run my 2nd marathon with World Vision.  Instead, I'm recovering from back surgery.  Instead of sore leg muscles, I have sore back muscles that are trying to heal back together after they were cut into and then sewn back together.  Instead of aches in my legs from running over mountains, I have aches in my right leg from where my nerve was affected by the herniated disc in my back.  Instead of an energized heart from experiencing a weekend of time with people who have a similar vision to provide clean water for the people of South Sudan, my heart is trying to make sense of this new journey and is recovering from the change of plans.  This is not the kind of recovery I envisioned for myself this week and I'm still adjusting the sudden change in plans.

The physicians assistant who met with me and my parents following my surgery on Monday described it as "controlled trauma".  As a trauma therapist, this makes sense to me.  Sometimes, in order to have more full healing and recovery, we have to expose ourselves to trauma in a controlled way.  In therapy, I do this by gradual exposure with my client to their past traumatic experience.  My goal is to get as close to the affected area of their heart so they are able to open up about toughest part of their experience.  As their therapist, I can help my client write it down and we can dissect the injured pieces of their heart and soul.  The purpose of dissecting trauma in therapy in this way is so that my client can more clearly see pieces that continue to be harmful in their lives.  It is my job to help them face these harmful pieces and come along on the journey to restore their hearts to become stronger and whole again.  They may always have a scar, but my hope in trauma therapy is always to give my clients a better chance to love wholly, live their lives more fully, and be less immediately affected by their trauma, even though that will always be a piece of them.

The definition of trauma is the occurrence of an event that results in emotional or physical distress and I would venture to add that trauma occurs when when the experience is unexpected or doesn't make sense or our life (or someone else's life) is threatened in some way.  I have seen kids traumatized by all sorts of events.  Trauma is subjective.  And usually, the reason the experience is traumatic, is because we were unprepared for it.

I was unprepared for this.  And like several of my trauma clients, I have similar cognitive distortions that I have heard them experience.  I should have seen it coming.  It's my fault for not saying something earlier.  I could have prevented this.  If only I had done (fill in the blank here with something different than what I ended up doing), things would be different and I could still be living my life as I had planned to for the end of summer 2017.

But the fact remains.  I suddenly and unexpectedly needed surgery.  I suddenly and unexpectedly needed to change my plans for travel, for running, for work, for social events.  While my actual life was never in danger, for the first time in my life, my physical well being was threatened and in that light, the way that I live my life was in danger of being altered forever.  And this all happened so suddenly.  One day, I was making travel plans with my friend and teammate Becca for our journey to Oregon and the next day, I was crying and telling her that not only I couldn't run, but that I couldn't even GO.  I was grounded.  Or as my surgeon said, I was red-shirted.  And I'm unprepared with how to cope with physical limitations.  I have never even broken a small bone or been sick for more than a few days...this is new.

Here, a week later, I'm still reeling.  The surgery is over and it went well.  God was with me the entire day during my surgery and I felt Him in so many ways throughout the day.  I am so blessed with a community of supports who are able to step in and look out for me when life turns unexpectedly.  But now, in the rest, it's starting to hit me.  Will I completely recover from this surgery?  Will I run again?  What do I do with all this time where my only job is to REST?  I have never rested well.  I am always on the move and I thrive under pressure.  But here I am, suddenly and unexpectedly in a place where the only thing I need to do is rest.  Rest from work.  Rest from running.  Rest from fundraising and raising awareness.  Rest from making social plans.  Rest from traveling.  Rest from taking care of others.  Rest from pretty much ALL physical activity (except walking which I am encouraged to do so that's a relief!).  And it feels so strange.  I don't know how to allow myself to just heal and rest.

In this season, I will be learning how to rest.  My body needs it to recover from the controlled trauma of surgery.  I need it as my emotions go back and forth while I realize the limits of my physical body.  I am so quick to give other people in my life permission to rest but I am so tough on myself.  I am learning how to go easy on myself.  I am learning how to call it quits and stop pushing myself.  I am learning how to rely on my God in a different way than I ever had before.  I am learning how to rely on the people in my life and not be apologetic in asking for help.  This is humbling and in all honesty, I have felt defeated.

A year from now, I hope to be able to write that I have completed fundraising for clean water for the 4th year in a row and that I have completed RUNNING my 3rd Hood to Coast race with World Vision.  I hope this next year of physical healing will bring me to a new level of strength.  I pray that this physical trauma teaches me to go easy on myself and balance my life more fully than I have been.  But for now, I just want to learn how to really and truly rest.