I basically approached the idea of time off after foot surgery kicking and screaming. Certain that I’d be fine to return to work the following week, until my doctor said I’d be out two months. What?!? Are you not aware of my superhuman ability to soldier through? Yes, and not this time. Sigh.
My desire not to make my surgery an issue for anyone else even went so far as considering not having anyone stay with me post procedure. Not wanting to be an inconvenience. Until the hospital required me to name who would be my caretaker the first 24 hours. Apparently…surgery is a real deal.
Despite my initial reluctance, the aftermath was far more than I anticipated, and I began to understand the wisdom of rest. Honestly, the first few weeks, I was still mentally attached to work. Concerned that I wasn’t doing my part. Somewhere around week four, that began to melt away and I settled into actual rest. The physical rest had been non-negotiable. Mental rest doesn’t happen as automatically. Stick your foot in a boot and call it non-weight bearing, checkmate, but the mind kept working.
We don’t realize how tightly wound we are until the impetus for the stress is removed, for more than 48 hours. Yet, rarely do we have the time to genuinely unwind. Once undone, our minds reach a point where we can objectively look at our life and ask questions. Wonder if we’re simply following a rut rather that forging our own path.
Maybe it’s the stage of life I’m in that prompted the reflection, but it smacked me head on. What do you do with all that? All the ‘stuff’ that starts coming up, the questions, the considerations? Me? I started asking myself questions. Looking at the assumptions and limiting beliefs that were getting in the way of a broader view. Different areas of life, not under a microscope, but given scrutiny. The nudges I’d been feeling in my heart, they wove together and were all singing the same song.
And the bigger question that arose, that may arise for you, is “how do I want to live out this one beautiful life that I have?” Whereas this question had been in the back of my mind, after a few weeks of rest and letting go of the autopilot which drove me, it sat right in front of me. The benefit of having extended time for healing was that it happened on more levels than one. The physical healing was obvious, but the state of mind was unexpected.
I wouldn’t have thought I’d be saying it, but it was a gift. I can understand now the benefit of sabbatical. Of a day of rest, except it took more than a day to achieve it. That we all don’t have the opportunity (sans foot surgery) for genuine rest is a shame. Other countries mandate long periods of vacation, they acknowledge and accept the need for personal rest and structure business around that principle. Considering the whole person before the business. Rest shouldn’t be a luxury, it is necessary, healing. And I have, both my foot and internally. With a clear awareness of what I want in life.
What other lessons can you learn in rest?
- It’s possible to grow tired of wearing yoga pants every.single.day.
- A rediscovered love of reading, and a new passion for the work of Sue Monk Kidd.
- Crutches are not as awful as they’re made out to be, but the calluses on my hands can go away now, please.
- You can live without showering every day, the world will not end (same goes for shaving your legs…the horror).
- Asking for help is a strength, not a weakness. People want to help.
- Time off is a gift. Don’t refuse to take it.
- You are worthy, independent of what you do.
- People are kind. Period. Generous and helpful.
I could go on but want to land on the last one. People are kind. The number of friends and strangers who were generous and kind in their help astounded and humbled me. I inherently believe in the good in people and it’s there, on display in small and big moments.
My friends, I hope you find rest, time to reflect and the gift of the lessons that arise from it. You have but this one life, learn and live it well.
When I was avidly cycling, my friends and I used to participate in double centuries. 200 miles in one stretch, filled with laughter, camaraderie, lots of food, some pain, and endurance. By the time I was riding the doubles, I’d built up strength and speed. Not Lance Armstrong speed by any stretch, but enough to hold my own. Around mile 150 of the Davis Double, on a hot – I mean, cook an egg on the pavement hot – day, we came upon a fellow cyclist. The community of cyclists participating in these rides is not immense, so it was someone we’d ridden with many times.