So I kind of gave up on this whole blogging idea. And I have no intention to keep this thing updated with my every motion. But the mood has struck me to write, so I am.
I have been back in the states since August 26 2011, leaving Europe just 2days before my visa expired. The trip was exactly what I wanted, a product of sort of planning, enjoying the adventure, and trusting my gut. I got home safe and sound and was ready to start something "real." I was ready to grow some roots and have a place to call home. Something a bit more formal than the few pieces of my make-shift shrine and a sum total of possessions that I could carrying on my back. Boston was the place. It chose me. With a blink of the eye I was employed and housed and back in the networks I love and trust, it was so easy. Being back to work felt great. Teaching yoga and giving massage, making myself a little better with every session. Getting into a rhythm. Volunteering at another studio for free yoga classes and a different perspective, signing up to give Reiki sessions at Brigham and Woman's, doing everything I thought I should be doing, things that I wanted to do and had been planning it since before my return.
So, 4 weeks ago, to the day-actually to the hour, this all came to an abrupt halt. I got into an accident. Pure and simple, he didn't see me and I didn't see him. Unfortunately, I, on my bike, felt the collision a bit more than my competitor in his rented Kia Soul. And boy, did I feel it. With rib fractures and significant bruising on my left and a broken right humerus, I was hurt. So now, as the physical trauma is slowly losing its grip, I'm forced to deal with the after math. My prognosis is 4 months before I will be back to normal. I get to learn how to be left hand dominant and I have to cope with the inability to support myself.
I am back in my ever temporary state. It brings all the questions we should never ask in these moments, bc even if we ask, the answers are impossible to know. Time reveals everything. So, in the meanwhile I distract myself with books and my physical therapist humors me with some exercises, I sign in 1 yoga class a week and try to attend classes to soak up the positive energy, this is about all I can do. This is my test in patience. In faith. In my ability to stay grounded. And it sucks and I'm angry and sad. I want to run away, but I can't. I must stay and be okay. I have to try to be upbeat or risk social alienation. So I put a smile on my face and try not to cringe as good-meaning people tell me how incredibly sorry they are for me. Two more weeks and a good x-ray means I will start to ween off my sling, and thats when things will get interesting.
I have been back in the states since August 26 2011, leaving Europe just 2days before my visa expired. The trip was exactly what I wanted, a product of sort of planning, enjoying the adventure, and trusting my gut. I got home safe and sound and was ready to start something "real." I was ready to grow some roots and have a place to call home. Something a bit more formal than the few pieces of my make-shift shrine and a sum total of possessions that I could carrying on my back. Boston was the place. It chose me. With a blink of the eye I was employed and housed and back in the networks I love and trust, it was so easy. Being back to work felt great. Teaching yoga and giving massage, making myself a little better with every session. Getting into a rhythm. Volunteering at another studio for free yoga classes and a different perspective, signing up to give Reiki sessions at Brigham and Woman's, doing everything I thought I should be doing, things that I wanted to do and had been planning it since before my return.
So, 4 weeks ago, to the day-actually to the hour, this all came to an abrupt halt. I got into an accident. Pure and simple, he didn't see me and I didn't see him. Unfortunately, I, on my bike, felt the collision a bit more than my competitor in his rented Kia Soul. And boy, did I feel it. With rib fractures and significant bruising on my left and a broken right humerus, I was hurt. So now, as the physical trauma is slowly losing its grip, I'm forced to deal with the after math. My prognosis is 4 months before I will be back to normal. I get to learn how to be left hand dominant and I have to cope with the inability to support myself.
I am back in my ever temporary state. It brings all the questions we should never ask in these moments, bc even if we ask, the answers are impossible to know. Time reveals everything. So, in the meanwhile I distract myself with books and my physical therapist humors me with some exercises, I sign in 1 yoga class a week and try to attend classes to soak up the positive energy, this is about all I can do. This is my test in patience. In faith. In my ability to stay grounded. And it sucks and I'm angry and sad. I want to run away, but I can't. I must stay and be okay. I have to try to be upbeat or risk social alienation. So I put a smile on my face and try not to cringe as good-meaning people tell me how incredibly sorry they are for me. Two more weeks and a good x-ray means I will start to ween off my sling, and thats when things will get interesting.
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