In Hong Kong:
What am I doing? I feel I lost my zest for life. I no longer have interest in anything. I just do it because I know I should, and I know it’ll be good in the long run, but I really can’t be bothered to do anything now. It didn’t start out like this though. When I first came home, I was motivated, and I was bursting full of life.
Motivation is finite, but practical steps get results.
I started doing 20 activities for rehab a day. Swimming, dribbling a ball, balance training, range of motion work, kneading to break connective tissue, electrotherapy, hydrothermictherapy, pressure point stimulation and more. If I would gain a mile I would take a mile. If I could gain an inch, I’d take an inch. I’m not picky, I’ll take as much of it as I can get.
With such momentum, I drew boxes one after another on my whiteboard, lined to the daily necessities. This is it, it’s going to happen. I’m going to heal.
And it did work. I felt I improved neurologically every week. It was exhausting to go at it several times a day, but I felt my nerves were learning new movement and I started to move in fluid motion. Of course there are the stabs of trickling pain, but that didn’t stop me. I wasn’t doing this for whims in the wind.
Every day was a trudge, but if I was gaining, I ain’t complaining.
Until, it was too much.
I feel mentally depleted, and physically exhausted. I think I’m doing everything right, I do get results at the end of the week, but it’s just so slow. I feel like I’m trudging through mud and getting stuck footed as it slops. Everything has taken out of me. I’ve lost 5 kilos and have fallen ill. Challenges are always revealing, it’s okay to have cracks, but not chasms.
My body’s telling me to chill out a bit, because healing happens with rest. I feel pretty helpless, and I want to be doing more, but when I weigh the same amount as I did when I was 13 years old, that’s dangerous and can’t be healthy.
I’m 42 pounds, 19 kg lighter than an average person my height is suppose to be. I’m not trying to lose weight, and the shedding has probably contributed somewhat to me being sick six times and having nerve failure twice.
So I’m going to try practice resting as my next stage of healing. Trying to get my energy back.
I flew back to London:
And tomorrow I go for my spine check up. This determines if I’m allowed to study or work in the health professions field. I feel kind of distraught that my fate is in the hands of a stranger neurological consultant and occupational therapist that hasn’t been with me through the journey, but see me for the first time tomorrow. A new day brings new challenges, and new challenges bring new opportunity.
When it’s dark, you got to shine, don’t just sit with your light off. When it’s difficult hard and it’s darkest, that’s when you have to come alive. I’ve got to suck it up and just try my best at whatever test they present me. As Bear Grylls said, “Enthusiasm is important, but application is more important, if you can’t adapt and develop in the wild, you can’t survive.” I might get knocked down, but not knocked out. If I’m still in, I can still get back up.
How are you adapting?