Please note how happy I look in the above photo–I grinned so hard that my right dimple made an appearance after being MIA for most of 2021.
But first, let’s cover the shitty stuff…
About 2021. It did not go as planned.
I can hardly find the words to describe how off the rails it went. I was ready to cut the proverbial ribbon on several passion projects and launch Krissy 2.0 at rocket speed.
My bushy-tailed enthusiasm for 2021 came to a sobering end in the spring. After several months of repetitive motion on my right arm–and then soon after on my left arm–everything changed.
Instead of becoming the badass business woman I fantasized, I parked my ass on my extra soft coral sofa, carefully inserted my throbbing hands into giant foam wrist splits made for sleeping, turned on Netflix, and binge watched all of Downton Abbey.
For about 6 months.
2021, the Year of…?
At first, I thought I would use my severely reduced workload on disability as a way to continue working on my projects, but I quickly realized that that was a pipe dream. I was in such bad shape that I could not hold open #Girlboss. I could not write notes in my new project journal or type up a business plan, and even listening to podcasts was pointless because I could not take the wisdom of Rachel Rogers anywhere. And to be quite honest, it only made me deeply sad to be reminded that my hands were basically tied with no timeline whatsoever on when I would be freed. I often worried that this was my new normal.
Comfort was not easily found elsewhere. I could not cook, do laundry, pole dance, or drive long distances. Shit, I had to buy more dresses because pulling up a pair of pants sent chilling aches up my arm. And every minute that I spent using my hands was slowing down my healing process.
To cope with dashed dreams and uncertainty I have never known, I became completely numb. I was as excitable as a toilet brush. All vitality left my body and dissipated. When I went to S Factor classes for some (hands-free) movement, I felt like a cookie ready to crumble. My mood changed by the minute and became so unpredictable, I couldn’t remember what it was like to feel normal for any sustained period of time.
Not surprisingly, old injuries came back to haunt me during this time of distress. My neck and back started tightening mid summer. I was so disconnected from the sensations, I didn’t even notice the tension until I was in severe pain and had to seek physical therapy and chiropractic adjustments for several months. Needless to say, I was very expensive for my insurance provider last year.
I’m very sentimental about how I perceive previous periods of my life. I have a knack for cataloguing experiences and memories by year, and certain feelings come up based on the timeline. 2021 was a time of injury, severe pain, and emotional turmoil, but in the process I learned what it means to truly REST (much more on that in a future post).
When the doctor cut my working hours down to just 1 hour a day last July, I thought it was great for a couple of reasons. First of all, I was in enough pain that I knew I needed to work less, but I also was looking forward to having some time off from work, emotionally. Six weeks later, I enthusiastically clapped my hands together and declared, “This has been great, but I’m ready to return to my normal life now!” But I wasn’t feeling any better yet, and when I revisited the doctor for my check in, I was exasperated at the lack of progress. I was starting to twitch. I had cabin fever from staying home all the time. I was running out of TV shows to watch. The long walks through my neighborhood were getting old. Retail therapy only provided short-term relief. If you had told me then that six months later I would not be fully healed yet, I think that my spirit would have vacated my body. I wasn’t ready to hear that, and at that point, the worst of it was yet to come.
If it wasn’t for my amazing boyfriend and friends constantly lifting me up, I would have certainly spiraled into a deep, deep depression.
2022, the Year I Kick this Injury to the CURB
I have slowly been clawing my way out of this dark cave. My pain has greatly improved over the past 3 months. Though, concerned that I had started to reach a plateau in my healing journey, I recently purchased (with my own damn money) a program to help me better understand how to deal with chronic pain, and I’ve returned to the Network Spinal Analysis therapist (definitely not covered by insurance). Why? Because the traditional, modernized medical approach to chronic pain has done closed shop on me (more on THAT in a future post).
Something major shifted a couple weeks ago. I began to feel lighter in spirit. I started taking selfies again, just for the heck of it. I danced in wigs on New Years Eve (completely sober!). I’ve very suddenly become overwhelmed with dreams every night–my dream interpretation journal is popping.
I can pull up a pair of skinny jeans again.
Feminine Play is back.