How My Broken Wrist Went Straight to My Head

My wrist has been broken for almost a month. It continues to heal, and I continue to feel closer and closer to my normal self with every passing day. Brandon is truly grateful for that, as this has been a challenging period for both of us.

He is nearly back into his normal routine, although he is still doing dishes; but I can’t seem to get back into mine, what with all the physical therapy appointments and the nuisance of having only one working arm. I am improving, though, and I can even see a glimmer of – what is that? – a light at the end of this very long tunnel! It is still just a glimmer, but I now see that, as painful as this month in the tunnel has been, it hasn’t been without its lessons.

First, I learned that you must (and it’s ok, even best to) have people to lean on. It seems kind of obvious, and maybe I already knew this on a certain level. But I have always been incredibly independent. I don’t like the thought that there exists in this world a single project or problem that I couldn’t take care of on my own if I had to. Sure, if I had a flat tire on my car or a snake in my yard, I would call Brandon – but not because I couldn’t take care of it, because I wouldn’t want to.

Well, this injury put me in a position where there were things I really couldn’t do (see last week’s post). I wanted to wash the dishes on my own (ok, that’s a stretch – but I did want to do my own ponytail). I was forced to ask for help, even on the most miniscule projects, and it was very humbling. I didn’t like it at all that I had to give up my precious independence. I only did it because I didn’t have a choice, but it eventually occurred to me that, injured or not, the road I walk only becomes straighter when I walk it with people who care about me.

Lots of people were caring about me, and while enjoying their company on my journey, I learned that it’s easiest for me to hurt the people who most want to help me. I don’t think it’s something any of us do on purpose, but it is something we all do. During this ordeal, I have approached Brandon with anger and frustration much more frequently than with gratitude. Of course, I am grateful to Brandon. I’m frustrated with and angry at life, but I can’t yell at life; I can yell at Brandon. And I do because I know he will still love me (and still open my pills for me) after my tirade is over, and sometimes even while I’m still in the middle of it.

I want very badly not to allow myself any longer to take my anger out on the people I love most in the world. I mean, once I learned that I don’t want to walk my road alone, the worst thing I could possibly do is chase people off it with my mood swings.

Oh, mood swings – the only thing I have ever willingly given up control over. Speaking of which, finally I learned that life still works when I don’t have complete control of it. I will probably always try to control every aspect of my life (well, besides the random mood swings, but that is only because I believe we are all entitled to them). I’ve learned this lesson about control over and over (it was a huge theme during my year in India, in fact), and it never seems to stick. This might be because I’m a bit stubborn, or, although the stubborn thing is true, it might simply be that this last lesson is such a hard one to learn.

I do know it, though. Yes, I forget sometimes (ok, most of the time), but I do know. The first time I saw my doctor, he told me that it would have been easier on both him and me if I had broken my arm bone clean in half. But I knew I hadn’t had control over it happening, and neither would I have control over it healing. As painful as it was, I had to just let it happen. And do you know what? It did.

And that’s how my broken wrist went straight to my head.