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Saturday, September 16, 2006
Learning to let go
I am a control freak.
Admitting this is absolutely no problem for me, it's a personality trait that I make sure and warn people about if we are working together on almost any level. It's only fair.
To be happy and calm, I organize things the way I need them to be so they make sense for the way life plays out in my existence.
I bring this up because I am having trouble with this broken foot thing. Since this accident, I have had to release my control and hand it over to several others who have always been very happy to let me take the helm. Namely my significantly patient other half (I have not been the easiest of patients), our son (he has had to arrange his limited free time to help out), my co-workers and even my furry children (meal times and walks are no longer part of the things I can do) have had to make adjustments to accommodate me.
Letting others do for me is difficult. I like to pick out my own fruits and vegetables. Cooking is a pleasure for me, not a chore. Power-walking with my beloved Labrador mix has never been a bugaboo, it's a recreation that is just as much a part of me as breathing. So handing over the reins on these activities is making me very cranky.
Okay, it's also probably the 5 pound hot pink weight on my right foot and the damn (pardon the language) walker that has added way more pain than I would like to various joints, but I believe I'm making a point: I do not like having others do "my job"!
Plus, I am finding that, similar to when I was pregnant, many strangers come up to me and tell me their experiences of horror with the "same injury". One lady even told me to just go back to the doctor and insist on taking off the cast and tell him to let me wear a tight tennis shoe and I'd be fine, "look at me, I'm perfectly normal".
And then, she shut the heavy bathroom door to the outside world, so I had to open it while balancing on the walker!
There was also the comments of passersby about a "woman that age wearing a bright pink cast"
Excuse me! This came from two women about 20 years older than me wearing low-riding, sequin embellished jeans! Talk about calling the kettle black!
It's very hard on another plane, I thought once my RA (rheumatoid arthritis) was under control, I would never have to be "out of control" again, so I'm very sure this is playing a big part of my uncertainty about what life will be like in the next couple of months.
However, since I have no choice, I guess I'll learn to let go.
Admitting this is absolutely no problem for me, it's a personality trait that I make sure and warn people about if we are working together on almost any level. It's only fair.
To be happy and calm, I organize things the way I need them to be so they make sense for the way life plays out in my existence.
I bring this up because I am having trouble with this broken foot thing. Since this accident, I have had to release my control and hand it over to several others who have always been very happy to let me take the helm. Namely my significantly patient other half (I have not been the easiest of patients), our son (he has had to arrange his limited free time to help out), my co-workers and even my furry children (meal times and walks are no longer part of the things I can do) have had to make adjustments to accommodate me.
Letting others do for me is difficult. I like to pick out my own fruits and vegetables. Cooking is a pleasure for me, not a chore. Power-walking with my beloved Labrador mix has never been a bugaboo, it's a recreation that is just as much a part of me as breathing. So handing over the reins on these activities is making me very cranky.
Okay, it's also probably the 5 pound hot pink weight on my right foot and the damn (pardon the language) walker that has added way more pain than I would like to various joints, but I believe I'm making a point: I do not like having others do "my job"!
Plus, I am finding that, similar to when I was pregnant, many strangers come up to me and tell me their experiences of horror with the "same injury". One lady even told me to just go back to the doctor and insist on taking off the cast and tell him to let me wear a tight tennis shoe and I'd be fine, "look at me, I'm perfectly normal".
And then, she shut the heavy bathroom door to the outside world, so I had to open it while balancing on the walker!
There was also the comments of passersby about a "woman that age wearing a bright pink cast"
Excuse me! This came from two women about 20 years older than me wearing low-riding, sequin embellished jeans! Talk about calling the kettle black!
It's very hard on another plane, I thought once my RA (rheumatoid arthritis) was under control, I would never have to be "out of control" again, so I'm very sure this is playing a big part of my uncertainty about what life will be like in the next couple of months.
However, since I have no choice, I guess I'll learn to let go.
