Truths

Hello there.

I haven't been to here in a while, and I had to hack back into here just to write something.  Apparently I never use the same passwords for very long, and I have no idea which ones I was using last time I broke into my blog to spill some thoughts.  I thought about just making an entirely new blog, with entirely new things to say, because I think I've change quite a bit since I started writing my truths down on this here site.  But then I decided that to start over entirely would be inauthentic, as I've grown from that person into this person, so why should I start over and pretend like that person didn't exist?  That person was terribly clever and full of good ideas.  So is this person, but I haven't written down my clever ideas as much as that person (like the parking lot game, that was always good).

So anyway, growth.  Is it possible that the person I was and the person I am are the same person?  I took a class once that introduced the idea of linear vs non-linear time - linear being the theory that something just is, no matter when you look at it, and non-linear being that something in the past could change based on the perspective that you have at the time that you're looking at it.  I think the idea of non-linear time makes a lot more sense.  It implies a sense of growth that I think is lacking in a linear time framework.  Because as my experiences cause me to change and develop and my ideas are changing and developing, I'm doing that partly by looking back at the things that have happened in the past and taking more out of them, or understanding them differently, and if the past were simply linear, everything would just be how it is.  And I don't think I could learn as much from something that just is than I can from something that could change based on my current perspective.  Does that even make sense?

I like myself now.  I've liked parts of myself before, like the things that are funny or clever, thoughtful or intelligent, things that made me me, but weren't all of me.  I also liked my legs, because they were strong and they always did what I told them to in ways that I couldn't always get other things to do.  Until that time when they didn't do what I wanted and one snapped in half.  Then it wasn't strong, and I really didn't like my legs (well, really just the one).  But I like both of them again, and I like the other things that I always liked, but now I also like the rest of me.  Which is good, and new, and refreshing.  It's nice to sit in my green chair and be at peace with who I am, and happy with who I am, and excited about spending the rest of my life with myself, and liking myself, and being comfortable and at peace with myself.

I'm mending from my broken leg, and also from my broken spirit.  Because my spirit broke right around the same time that my leg did, and it made me angry and incredibly unpleasant.  I never knew what an un-broken spirit felt like until mine broke, and I think that part was worse than breaking my leg.  I couldn't be who I was anymore, and it made me angry and hateful and rude and really awful, especially to the people that I cared about the most.  I'm lucky that they stuck with me through my broken spirit, because if I were them, I probably wouldn't have wanted to be around that person who was just so angry all of the time.

I had to put Abby to sleep, and that broke my spirit a little more.  But then I got to take Jager, and he's been helping.  He needs a lot of exercise, which is helping my leg heal.  He likes to be in the mountains, which is helping my spirit heal.  I've always loved the mountains.  There's something about being in the middle of dirt and trees and quiet that just changes everything, and it's helped.

I'm a product of growth, and I like it.  As I said, I like who I am now.  I don't particularly like what I've written here, because it's very disjointed.  I like things to be clearly laid out and structured.  But since I didn't have a plan when I sat down, how could I possibly end up with something nice and orderly?  That's a little bit like me right now, I suppose.  I'm just kind of living, and where I end up is going to be an adventure.  The getting there is a little disjointed, and not always entirely pleasant, but I'll stick with the end result, because it's me.  And I like me.  And liking me is making me a much more delightful human, because I can finally really like other people.  Not just put everything I have into them, because it's a distraction from having to deal with me, but really like them, and be able to put everything into them because I'm already at peace and in like with myself.

So there you have it, world.  Hello again.

As happens during a life-changing situation, I've learned some things from this ol' leg break of mine.  I thought I'd share some of them here (I reserve the right to keep any lessons learned to myself, if I so choose, and to add to this list later on, since I believe in non-linear time).

My leg is withering.  Like, seriously.  Right before my eyes.  4 days ago I had a semi-normal (if not slightly swollen) lower leg, and all of a sudden I have a lower leg the size of my 14 year sister's, who is seriously one of the skinniest people I know.  It's extremely disproportional to my other leg, or even the thigh of my broken leg.  It's like a toothpick sticking out of a tree trunk.  My one true talent in life (leg wrestling) is apparently now a dream of the past.  I start PT tomorrow, and I'm only supposed to put 25% of my weight on my leg.  At first I was really confused about how I would know when I was at 25%...now I don't even need to worry about it, because this little baby-sized leg of mine can't hold more than 15 pounds, which is clearly not more than 25% of my body weight.  I can literally feel the break in my tibia with my fingers.

On a Wednesday, we were driving to practice, and there was a really bad accident on the freeway.  We were passing late enough after the accident happened that traffic wasn't really too bad anymore, but it was slower than normal, so I looked over to the shoulder of the road to see what happened.  A mini-van (I think it was red) was completely crumpled up.  The firemen were trying to take it apart, presumably to get out the people that were probably trapped inside, most likely in not the best states of health.  I couldn't stop thinking about how terrible it would be to be in that van, or worse yet, to have it be someone that I loved in that van.

Wednesdays are when our traveling team practices.  We were getting ready to play the team from Boulder County, CO.  Cookie had some really awesome toe stop drills that we did, then we did some hitting drills that I was really awful at, which made me really frustrated.  The only thing I'm really even a little decent at is hitting, so if I can't do that, what in the world do I think I'm doing on the travel team?  Then I remembered that I'm supposed to stop being frustrated at myself all the time and just enjoy playing, so I tried to let it go, and we started to scrimmage.  The scrimmage went about as well as it usually did.  We had a couple of new people on the travel team, and they were going to play with Portneuf that Saturday while we were playing against Boulder County.  They were most likely going to jam a little during their game, so we let them practice rotating through as jammers.  Bizee was jamming, and as we got to turn 2, three of BABS' blockers were on the inside, Bizee was coming right around the corner, so I went in the try to clear as many of them to the inside as I could so that Bizee could get through as easily as possible.  As I started to reset from the hit, I saw Bizee pass, but something was different.  I was standing too high, my weight was too far on my back wheels.  I could feel myself starting to fall, and I looked down at my ankle.  I roll my ankle all the time, so I was hoping that's all that was happening.  As I fell, though, instead of my ankle rolling and being able to limp a little and then be fine, I watched as my leg snapped and then crumpled beneath me.  "Oh, crap" I said (ok, ok, I didn't say crap.  Sorry about it.)  I fell the rest of the way to the ground, and my foot was dangling oddly off to the side of my leg, with the outside of my foot touching the outside of my leg.  "Oh, crap."  I said it again.  (I always kind of hoped that I would say "Oh, garbage" if I got hurt, like my grandpa did when he caught his face on fire, but in that moment where I watched my leg break underneath me, that's just not what came out of my mouth.)  I grabbed my skate, put my foot back where it should've been at the bottom of my leg instead of to the side of it, then I lied back, closed my eyes, and grabbed Jer's hands.  I couldn't believe it.  How could I have broken my leg so close to so many games that I so desperately wanted to play in?  What was I supposed to do about Rollercon?  I didn't want to start crying, so I made myself stop thinking about things like that and started talking to my teammates.  I asked them to take pictures of my leg (because if you're gonna break something, you better get some good pictures of it).  I asked Molly to make sure she told work that I wouldn't be there in the morning, but that I'd be back on Friday (and at the time, I honestly believed I would be).  I made Cookie practice her calm voice so that when Molly got back from the couches with my phone, Cookie would be able to talk to my family without making them panic.  I don't remember what else we all talked about, but I remember being really funny.  At least, I thought I was funny.  I was incredibly lucky that my teammates O and Carly were there, since they're medically trained and were actually able to splint my leg and take off my skate without me even feeling it.  Cookie laid down the seats in the back of her car, and the refs and some teammates carried me out and helped me get in.  Gambit drove me to the hospital, with O in the front and Cookie in the back with me holding my knee so that my leg wouldn't jostle.  As we drove toward the hospital, I noticed that the minivan was still on the side of the rode.  The firemen were still hard at work trying to take care of whoever was inside.  I remembered that things could be a lot worse.

The ER was pretty busy, and I was kind of a fool and told them my pain was probably a 6/10.  I mean, I've never had to rate my pain on a scale before, and I figured if I broke my femur (which is my biggest fear), it would've been way worse, so a 6 seemed reasonable.  I was supposed to meet up with the Bells, because I hadn't seen them forever and wanted to before they left for Europe, so I had to call and cancel.  O held my leg on her lap the whole time we were waiting, and a bit after we got there my family showed up.  Brother had even won a bear for me at Trafalga.  The ER staff was awesome.  They humored me by laughing at my jokes, they gave me lots and lots of morphine, and they were just all around outstanding humans.  My cardboard make-shift splint ended up being a lifesaver.  I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling of my bones shifting and grinding against each other inside of my leg, and I can't even imagine what that would've felt like without a splint.  Some of the team came by after practice.  It seems like we spend way too much time in emergency rooms.  I thought I'd be able to just get a cast thrown on and be sent home, but it turns out I did a real number on this old leg of mine. I finally got to a room around 2 or 3 AM.  Cookie and the sibs stayed until then, those wonderful people, and then it was just me and Mom in the hospital room, counting down the hours until I could have surge to get a rod shoved through my tibia.  My oxygen levels would get too low when I started to fall asleep, so every time I was even close to sleeping, the alarms started beeping.  I got so sick of it that I started telling my mom all about my job - how I file things, how my desk is organized, the layout of the entire office, where everyone's desks are, what everyone does - I'm positive it was the most interesting conversation she's ever been a participant in.  I got to go down to the OR around 10:30 the next day, had some metal put into my bone, and now I'm bionic.

It's been a pretty crazy 7 weeks since then.  They couldn't get my pain down most of the time I was in the hospital, and my surgeon went to New York right after he performed my surgery, so my poor nurses couldn't get more pain meds approved and they had to hear me complain at them for 4 days.  A foot specialist finally figured out that I had a nerve being pushed into one of my screws, so he prescribed some nerve medication, and then I was released and went home to my parents'.  My family has taken excellent care of me.  Becca even gave me a bell to ring while I was housed on the couch in case I needed anything.  Cookie has been amazing and comes and gets me whenever I feel too stir crazy, which is probably way more often than she has time for.  Jer called me every day for probably 3 weeks to make sure I didn't need anything, and any time I did, he brought it right over.  My teammates have been really cool about letting me bum around practice every week and letting me pretend like I'm helpful.  I'm so grateful for everyone's help.  I can't imagine what it would've been like without so many people around to hang out with me and help me.  It's been the most frustrating thing of my life, and I try my best not to get too discouraged and depressed, but as a natural pessimist, I must admit that I haven't done very well.  I hate not being able to drive.  I hate not being independent.  I hate being so far away from everyone in my league and not being able to be there every day.  I hate being so exhausted all of the time.

But when I'm feeling the worst, I always know that it will end soon enough.  I remember how many awesome friends I have, and what an amazing family I have.  I remember about the people in that minivan, and I remind myself that at least that wasn't me, and at least I didn't break my femur.

Ola todos.  I'm baaaaaaaaaaack!

You missed me, right?  Ok, you totes didn't.  But here I am.  And here are some highlights of the summer:

• Went to Seattle to play in a banked track tournament with Salt City Derby Girls.  I probably shouldn't have gone, considering I'd only play for 4 months at the time, but I learned a lot and had a great time.
• Went to Rollercon!!!  Best week ever.
• Celebrated my birthday.  It was awesome.
• Finally started unpacking our house.  It only took 3 months...
• Made our league's travel team, and got to play with them against WRD.
• Worked a bunch.
• Hung out with twin.
• Bought a car.
• Skated a lot, and played a whole lot of roller derby.
• Played with Jack, who is literally the cutest kid ever, and Emma and Tanner and Marcus, who are also the cutest and most awesome children/young humans.

There you have it.  It's been a ridiculously awesome summer, despite how boring the summary was to read.  I hope the rest of the year is just as great.