A sparkling September day. I’m sitting by the edge of the ocean. A gentle breeze blows off the water and the sand pipers scurry in the foam.
It’s a beautiful day in one of my favorite places in the world. And I’m furious.
Every single person who saunters by on two good feet, every child who flits effortlessly into the water, everyone who can dig their toes in the soft sand. I’m mad at them.
My longing is a deep ache: to walk along the shore, dive into the water and wiggle 10 toes into the wet wash of sand. Instead, my right leg is encased and sweating in a walking boot. That very boot is what allowed me to get to the water in the first place, but that’s not what I’m thinking about.
I’m thinking that it’s only me. All these happy feet. All these healthy bodies. Only I can’t enjoy the ocean.
I sigh with self-pity and see a woman around my age walking at the edge of the waves. She winces and limps a bit. Her knee is clearly hurting.
A little boy argues with his older sister and throws sand. A man in a baseball cap has tell-tale tufts of chemo hair poking out. A bird with a hurt leg hops awkwardly in the seaweed.
I couldn’t see it through my self-absorption, but there it is in front of me: suffering is everywhere. Everybody is carrying something. Everybody longs to put that something down. Everybody is healing something.
Whether it is a broken bone, a broken artery or a broken heart, healing is healing. Here are 4 reminders for all of us, no matter what healing is happening.
4 Healing Reminders
1. Healing is not linear.
I want it to be logical and linear, I really do.
More often it’s like the flight path of a moth.
Sometimes a moth with gas. It’s all over the place.
Steps forward and steps back. Pain intensifies and recedes. Remember that just because healing isn’t linear doesn’t mean it’s not happening.
2. You are not alone.
No life, human or otherwise, is without pain. Anytime you look at someone and think they are without struggle, you are wrong. Whatever you are feeling, whatever you are healing, right now millions of people are feeling and healing the same. Some people have it easier, of course. Some have more resources and more privilege, absolutely. But pain and loss exclude no one. EVERYBODY got their something.
3. Do what you can. Ask for help. Get information.
Pain of any kind can shut down whole chunks of your brain. It can narrow your vision and make you feel isolated and without options. Take a breath and see beyond what you can’t do to what you can do. Look for people who have been where you are or know things you don’t. Information can give us a toe hold in the free fall of fear. Ask for help. Get support. Repeat.
4. Relax your toes.
It is my contention that no healing can happen in a state of tension and contraction. When I started transitioning from the walking boot into shoes, my foot hurt. A lot. As I walked, I noticed that my toes scrunched together, bracing for the pain. Whenever I notice it, I pause, breathe, and relax my toes. Often the pain recedes as my toes unclench. No matter what you’re healing, it can be enhanced by relaxing whatever you’re holding or gripping. When in doubt, relax your toes.
From their beach chairs behind me, two women watch as I unstrap my boot and scramble, crab-like, into the surf. I get a face full of wave and a swimsuit full of sand. It is awkward and inelegant, and — I get into the sea. I bob in the waves, giggling with pure delight. On the way back in, I get tumbled again and get more sand in my suit before crabbing onto the beach and flopping breathless into my chair. Behind me, the two women cheer.