I have now officially had a broken leg for a full week (and just over five hours, as of right now). I have also had, I'm fairly sure, the worst week I've ever had. Ever. Ever.
To be sure... this week was not COMPLETELY terrible. A week that is completely terrible is both almost unimaginable, and possibly an inducement to suicide. There were a few good things about this week, which I am glad to have managed. It has certainly been a week of relationships--of discovering friends, and of discovering the charity of those around me. It's been a week to reflect on family, and to appreciate them.
It has, most notably though (in my opinion) been a week of wild emotion. The pains and agonies of having a broken leg and surgery is natural. And laying around doing nothing does tend to lend itself to introspection.
But I am not normally a roller-coaster of emotions sort of a person. I made it through Saturday, from the second I hit the ground until I went to sleep that night without shedding a tear. I tend to be extremely stalwart in my emotions, which is a good thing in times of crisis certainly, though I'm not sure it's as helpful in times when one should be wildly joyful. Even when I am wildly joyful, I don't show it. People don't know, usually, when I'm at my happiest.
Well, I suppose people didn't likely notice when I was getting emotional this week, be it with fear or sadness or with bittersweet joy. But it was there... and it was there WAY more than it normally is. I can deal with some of it... but I'm really tired of the bouts of rampant terror; when I'm laying in bed and the unknowledge of my future looms up before me, like a giant bogeyman who won't go away. It is, I suppose, the terror of someone used to having things planned out, and to being in control of his own life, who is now completely lost and without the ability to guide or foresee his own future.
I have to keep reminding myself to take things day by day. It will sort itself out in time, and by July (if not sooner), I'll be back in charge of my life.
The thing, though, is that it's the things that I CAN count on that have me hyperventilating.
How am I getting to my bloodwork on Tuesday? Where, when, and how am I writing my deferred exams (I CAN'T believe I'm not getting them all waived...)? How am I going to manage the Archbishop's Installation ('cause I'm not missing it!)? How long will the Seminary let me stay here? Will there always be someone to give me help with my meals? What if I have a diabetic low? Will I get the job at the Archives, and, if so, will I be able to manage it? What about lunches?
As you can see... I'm a worrier. Normally, I'm confident enough that it's not a problem... but right now I'm not particularly confident. I like to KNOW I can do things... and I don't KNOW what I can do on my leg yet... and I won't until I try.
I'm not so dependent on having company as I was back in the hospital. There's something about being back home, where I was a bit of a loner anyway, that relieves me of the worst of that clinging-to-human-contact that I suffered in the hospital... but it's still there. And the seminary is getting emptier, not fuller.
Mind you, this last isn't much of an issue that can be remedied at this point... It's kind of difficult to go out and make friends when you're on crutches. If I don't have a tonne of close friends here in Edmonton, well... that's my fault over the past year. Definitely incentive to change that next year, though...
Still, it's hardly an incentive to move back to Olds, as some might think it would be. These days, I'm not sure I'd garner any more visits than I do up here. And I certainly have more help up here. The seminarians and priests, few as they are becoming, are all willing to help as they can. At home... well, Mom would do what she could, but she's busy enough as it is, and I'm fairly sure the novelty would wear off for my siblings very feast.
I really can't wait until I have an approximate date of recovery... knowing how long I have to manage is something I can deal with, though I suppose that it does normally mean that time seems to slow down... I can't wait to be on an air-cast rather than crutches. I can't wait to have a job to occupy my time. I can't wait until I'm finished all my exams and I can officially say my semester is over. I can't wait until I know more about my accommodations, and have an idea how (if) I'm moving.
Yeah... as I said, I'm a bit of a worrier... I like to KNOW.
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2 comments:
I suppose it's another thing that makes us excellent siblings. I mean excellent that we found to call each other siblings, not excellent people who happen to be siblings. At least just in this case.
Even now I still haven't found the cure to being a worrywart. Even Psalm 46:10 - "Be still, and know that I am God" - can only work temporarily. (Tsktsk, I guess that says something about the current state of my relationship with God...) I guess it's something I get tired of, not something I can learn to let go. That would be a rather dismal way of viewing it, and I'm hoping I'm wrong.
For now, what you said about taking things a day at a time kind of works for me. If the future bothers me, I focus on what is going on today. Soak up every detail of it until I get tired of thinking, thus tired of worrying. My mum tells me I'm starting to show signs of being a workaholic, but doing something - anything - really helps me not to worry. It's not the best way to deal with it, but it benefits me a lot: I get things done, and enjoy the feeling of accomplishment.
I've rambled here, but I don't really have a point. I can't tell you not to worry because I do it myself, but I guess I can tell you not to give in to worry, if you know what I mean. We can simply entertain it, then move on.
Oh, doing something definitely fights worry... Which is the worst part of this whole broken leg business--I can't DO anything! Well, that's a SLIGHT exaggeration--but a slight one.
Watching TV and going on the Internet keeps one busy, and keeps the mind occupied for most of the day... but it's not enough to wear one out come night or early morning--when I seem (naturally) to be most vulnerable...
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