Showering at night is one of my favorite routines. They are long, hot and luscious. So much of this routine allows me to offer thanks and gratitude.
The water that rushes over my body streaming with heat to warm and soothe me.
The space I have in my bathroom for a shower to hold me.
The conditioner I use to smooth my coily curls from brittle to soft. Which I buy at Ulta or Sephora.
The towel I use to wrap my body.
And the one I use to wrap my hair.
The money I have to pay for water to run down on me, electricity/gas to heat it, products that I buy (towels, conditioner, comb, bath mats)
The space I have in my home for my many routines.
I am grateful for my routines and my peace and quiet. For all I have and for all I am in this moment. I know I am luckier than many to have what I have. I don’t take any of it for granted. In a moment all could be gone as quickly as a candle is snuffed out, so too my routines can change.
It wasn’t always this way.
Fifteen years ago, washing my hair brought me to tears. Showering felt like a task that had to be done, not something meant to be enjoyed. It was next to impossible after my near fatal car accident. I won’t go into details but I was in a six car crash and trapped for five and half hours on the NJ Turnpike facing oncoming traffic.
My whole body was injured. My shoulder, arm and fingers couldn’t function. My neck and back were in constant spasms. For a long time, my body was in shock and so was my mind. Near fatal leaves a person with scars. I needed help to maneuver my body from one position to another. I had a very loving daughter who was able and willing to help me through the worst of my trauma. For her, I am most grateful. I feel intense gratitude that I can move now. It took a lot of time and effort for me to be able to get to where I am today.
So much of my independence was taken from me. The way I did everything daily had to be re-taught, retrained. I hated it!
Holding my toothbrush was too heavy. I had to use my non-dominant hand for that. I felt angry all the time and carried with me “why me” victim mentality. The only gratitude I saw then was that I was alive. I didn’t know why. I didn’t understand why I had to suffer in so much pain.
I spent ten months going to orthopedists, pain management doctors, and therapists. The doctors were all too happy to prescribe this or that pain killer to me. Covering up the pain is not taking care of it. It’s hardly managing it. I didn’t want to be taking Oxycodone, Percocet, Vicodin, Flector pain patches, Xanax, Ambien, and so much more.
Something has to change. I shouted this to the Universe. Then, one day I met a woman who changed my life. I met her while getting a mammogram. As we sat in our pink mammogram robes, I noticed a surgery scar on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Of course not dear.” She was a robust, southern grandmotherly woman.
“Did you have shoulder surgery”.
“Yes. I did.”
“May I ask who your surgeon is? I have been with an orthopedist for 10 months and he is doing nothing for me.”
My story spilled out onto her. I knew she was safe and loving. She saw me. She really saw me. Her eyes welled up with tears as mine did and her compassion could be felt in ripples and waves.
She wrote the name of the doctor on a small piece of paper and after my exam I drove directly there. He became my surgeon. I feel intense gratitude for going to the mammogram appointment and meeting the woman. I often send silent prayers to her wishing her well.
I had surgery and almost a year of physical therapy before I was deemed physically disabled in my primary arm.
The label “disabled” affected me. I felt like I was a walking “disability” sign. This word defined me for so long. I felt the weight of the world with these ten letters. I felt different, odd, and cast aside. Maybe this was my own insecurity peeking through from the way I was brought up in the early 70’s. I know this word holds weight but it doesn’t mean limitations today like it did in years passed.
I will prove them wrong! I may have a disability but that doesn’t mean I can’t participate in life! Self-determination is one of my strongest values. I will show them.
One day, about two years into my healing, I opened my iPad and googled “yoga for beginners”. I took yoga years ago in Los Angeles with my friends so I am not exactly a beginner. But I am starting all over again with a different body. And a different mindset.
Up in my bedroom, on the floor next to my bed I practiced “cat-cow”. I can do this. I will do this! First I watched the video and then repeated what the instructor demonstrated. Sitting on the floor my arms flowed out as I pressed my shoulders back, curving my spine like a cow. I brought my arms together bringing my abdomen in with my head and pelvis down like a “cat”. Shit! This really hurts. My arms can’t go out and back so far. I’m going to have to really work on this. Almost immediately I saw the benefit of practicing “yoga” rather than doing physical therapy. I felt more empowered with yoga in one 10 minute practice than I had in all of the months of physical therapy.
Ok. I know how to do “cat-cow”. Next lesson is learn how to breathe.
In time I learned how to breathe and synchronize my breath to the motions. Yoga was life altering in my healing journey. I am grateful for my courage to try it and my perseverance to continue it.
I’m not sure what made me think about googling yoga on that day but I am grateful I did. Today, I love taking showers. Washing my hair feels like a gift that was given to me. I brush my teeth with my dominant hand. I have so much to feel grateful for in life, sometimes its these small things that are really big.
I still have a disability and that’s okay. I learned to be at peace with that. I don’t let that define me anymore. I have gratitude for everything and everyone…especially YOU. Thank you for reading this.
Oh yah, and now I am also a certified yoga instructor. :)
Gratitude for the small stuff
I am honored to be part of your tribe. You are a gift.
This is a deeply personal, vivid, and wonderful story of one woman's journey to overcome an overwhelming disability. Very life affirming!