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Dear ,
I hope you had a good start into the new year.
Mine was quite different from other years. One day before New Year's Eve I went ice skating with my family, someone bumped into me, I fell, and I broke the wrist of my right hand.
The last four weeks have been an amazing time of insights and learning and therefore I would like to dedicate this newsletter to the lessons I was taught in January.
***The loss***
The first thing I realized was that also something “small” like breaking a bone is a loss. Of course, it is only a temporary loss, something you know will heal eventually, but interestingly I went through the same stages of grief that we know for loss in general. Immediately after the accident and despite my body telling me in various ways, that my bone was broken, I felt the denial: "Maybe it wasn't as bad, maybe I had just sprained it". Then the anger came up, anger at myself about having been stupid and too careless. And while I was waiting for the emergency doctor in the hospital, I caught myself bargaining with universe of how I would take care better of myself in future if my wrist wasn't broken. After the diagnosis came the depression, thinking of how my life would change for some time. I had made so many plans of how I wanted to use the first three weeks of January and a lot of it was related to writing. Realizing that I would not be able to carry out my plans made me feel desperate and depressed. All these four stages happened within hours, but I was very much aware of them.
When I got back home from the hospital, the first thing I did was to ask my husband to help me put a plastic bag over my cast and - with the hand held high above my head - I took a shower all by myself. Managing this essential step on my own made me feel so good, that I decided to accept the situation I was in and to be open for the experiences that it might give me.
***Awareness***
This little accident made me realize how much we take our body and its functions for granted. Only when something is missing, we become aware of its importance – in my case all the innumerable movements of our dominant hand that are necessary for our daily life. So many automatic and unconscious movements and actions are no longer possible when we lose it.
And with this awareness came a deep sense of humbleness and also a deep feeling of gratitude to my body who is serving me so well during my whole life.
***Support vs Autonomy***
When an accident happens and we are not able to continue our normal ways of handling our daily chores, we need help. We are lucky, when we have people that support us, like my dear husband.
On the other hand, we could also become too needy and thus risk our autonomy or easily fall in a victim role. So I learned to keep the balance between admitting where I really needed help and support and where I could find ways to keep my autonomy.
I also realized how important it was for me to learn handling difficult situations on my own. Not because I was too stubborn, but because being able to take care of ourselves is essential, especially when we grow older. It might take five times longer, but it's worth it.
And keeping this balance between support and autonomy, sometimes I really enjoyed allowing others to help me even though I could have done it on my own.
***How healing happens***
While my wrist was slowly healing, I was amazed of how our body finds its own way to reconnect both parts of the bone with just being in a position of peace and stillness. It feels as if your whole system slows down and all forces are focused on supporting the healing process. You cannot rush up things, you need to give time, be patient, let go of any attempt to push or wanting things to happen faster than they actually can.
When a bone is healing in its cast, often there is what they call subacute pain. Much of this pain stems from the immobility that is needed for the bone to heal properly.
And besides the physical sensations during my bone healing, I was also allowed to look at old patterns and things of the past that wanted to be seen because they too were still waiting to be healed.
I realized how similar all this is to the healing journey of our souls. We want the healing to happen as fast as possible, but in reality, it takes its time. And it can be painful, and uncomfortable patterns can show up, but when we understand that all this has a meaning and is needed for the ultimate healing, when we surrender to the process, not only our wound eventually heals but we open up to a much deeper transformation.
***Creativity and solutions***
And finally, we come to the practical experiences of my journey.
Whilst trying to get along with my daily life I became very creative. I allowed my body to support me in finding out what I was able to do, using my neck, my teeth and my elbows in various ways. My knees helped me to open jars and my feet to strap the bags from my dog’s poop bag roll. Other times my whole body was involved in circular movements whilst dressing or undressing.
The biggest challenge was writing. Luckily Microsoft has a dictating function, so I was able to dictate all my emails and other writings.
But there are things you cannot dictate. I knew that I had to prepare all the genograms for the workshop in February. Drawing a genogram for me means connecting to the family and the ancestors of my clients. It is a direct connection from my heart through my hands on the paper and cannot be replaced by a machine. I was really desperate.
But in a moment of lamenting a friend just said: “Wonderful! Now you will learn to write with your left hand and activate the right side of your brain!” Honestly, I saw this an impossible challenge. I had tried it before, but immediately given up. My friend's encouragement helped me to try it again and be very patient and my left hand thanked me for trusting it with a still childlike and yet readable handwriting.
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Today I was at the hospital to remove the cast. Although I knew that this would not mean getting back to normal, reality really hit me and for a moment I was afraid that my hand would never get back to what it once has been. But then I understood that it is just another chapter in the healing process – it is about vulnerability, self-care, and trust. There is still a lot of time needed until my hand will be able to fully support me, but it's ok, and I am open to what other lessons it might teach me.
Whenever you are in a situation where something throws you off track, I hope that this newsletter encourages you to find your own conscious and creative way of allowing the challenge to become a gift.
I wish you a good month of February in the spirit of love and reconciliation.
Ursula |
