In an injury, there is the physical component. The side that is diagnosed, repaired and rehabbed. The tendons that rupture, the bones that break, the muscles that tear. But there is another side to injuries. This component can't be mended with ice or fixed by a surgeon. It's the emotional impact that comes from the injury. The mental game.
When I got hurt and was in the emergency room, I tried to keep my spirits up. While sitting on a stretcher with my leg wrapped in ice, I made conversation with the patients around me...an interesting group considering it was after midnight at the Mass General. There was the drooling drunk who had gotten jumped when leaving a bar, the weepy college student who slipped on ice and the old crazy man who's idea of conversation included flipping me the finger and laughing until he couldn't breathe. I tried to see the humor in my surroundings and kept telling myself, "It is what it is. I can't undo what's done, might as well deal with it." Good idea in theory, tough in practice.
I tried to stay positive the whole next day. I kept trying to think towards getting better and rehab. I didn't want to let myself get bogged down in the "What if's" and "Should haves". If seen people who live their entire lives in that frame of mind and I simply refused to let that happen to me. When people asked how I was doing, my stock response was, "I'm okay, just trying to stay positive and focus on getting better."
Now before I go on, I should mention that there were two major things that were disrupted by my injury. First, for the last 5 months, I had been busting my ass at the gym. I was lifting four days a week and running 5-6 days. I had gotten into pretty descent shape, certainly not where I wanted to be, but at the point where I was ready to commit to making the jump to the next stage of fitness. I felt better than I had ever felt and was proud that I committed myself to living a healthy and active life.
The next thing effected by my injury was a major trip I had planned to Australia and Fiji. I was scheduled to leave January 29th for Sydney, spend the weekend, then fly to Fiji on the 3rd of February. I studied abroad in Australia in college and made some of the best friends of my life. I've kept in touch with a good amount of them and one of my buddies was getting married on one of the Fijian islands. I looked at this trip as a once in a lifetime opportunity and couldn't wait to meet up with my friends who I rarely get to see and take part in such a big event.
Well, needless to say, my injury put the end to both my fitness regime and my trip. While I can still lift and do upper body exercises, it can't be with the same precision and discipline I had been using. Plus, there is no substitute for not being able to do cardio for the next 6-8 weeks. As far as my trip, taking a 20 hour flight so soon after surgery increases the risk of blood clots and infection. It's simply not smart to go. So even though I was losing out on so much I refused to dwell on the negative and, again, tried to focus on healing. Well, regardless of how much you "allow" yourself to think something, the mind tends to wander and think what it wants.
The second night after I got hurt, I stayed at at my parent's house for the first time. I was eating dinner, sitting on the couch and I just started thinking about what I had been through in the past 48 hours. Try as I might, I couldn't stop the rush of thoughts and emotions that started flooding into my head and my heart. It was as though everything I refused to allow myself to think and feel found a weak spot in my mind and told all their buddies. They stormed through and claimed victory on the other side. I suddenly became so depressed and miserable. I excused myself to the bathroom because I didn't want to let on that I was feeling...well, anything.
I went into the bathroom and started crying. Now...I am not a crier. I'm not saying that to sound tough or macho. But I don't cry easily. The last time I remember crying was when we had to put our golden retriever to sleep in 2005. But here I was, crying. Sobbing. I couldn't help it. I kept thinking about how badly I was hurt and how much it was going to impact my life. I thought about my trip and not being able to see my friends. I thought about how my actions were affected those around me...my family, my friends, my co-workers, everyone who had to adjust their lives because of my injury.
I cried for about ten minutes and that was it. Afterwards I felt fine. It felt good to cry. I think I needed to let everything out. I needed to deal with the emotions and realities that resulted from my injury instead of just ignoring them and willing myself to be okay.
The mental aspect of an injury is difficult to deal with. Personally, I felt I either had to remain optimistic and upbeat or fall prey to negativity and self pity. I'm learning it's not that black and white. There is the middle ground of owning the emotions as they arise, accepting them, dealing with them and then moving on. Whenever I've come up with an obstacle I've set a goal and simply pushed until I achieved it. I'd will it to happen, steamroll over obstacles that got in my way. Dan GO SMASH! You can't steamroll over emotions and reality because eventually they will find a way through. You need to recognize and deal. I get that now.
This isn't to say I've won over the mental game. Each day the melancholy of my situation finds a way through. Now, instead of ignoring it, I'm dealing with it and then moving on. I guess that's the way around any obstacle. Look it straight on, accept it, understand it, then push past it.
In health and with respect...
D
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