The cicada insects were here in Nashville for several weeks this Spring/Summer, and they were everywhere. They flew into my hair, rode into the house on my dogs' backs, even got caught buzzing in Steve's pants. Then, as abruptly as they showed up and seemed like they'd be here forever, one day I noticed they were gone.
In a way, this is like my recovery. One day I abruptly broke my leg, and while it felt like it would be forever before I would walk again, one day I stood up and began walking. Now, I'm driving and back to trying to earn a living. When I see friends lately they say, "wow, you're walking already? You've healed so quickly, time has sure flown..."
But while the cicadas shed their skins and become a better, more beautiful version of themselves with a new sense of purpose, I've fallen back into my old self: The me that is worried about money, frustrated by my decreased productivity, and stressed (which shows up physically as a burning red hot ear). I actually caught myself telling a friend the other day that I liked it better when I couldn't walk because I was so much easier on myself--I was helpless and innocent!--This is craziness talking.
My leg is healing beautifully, but my life is not. My emotional healing is proving to be the ugliest part of this journey. At 15 weeks into this experience, my leg hurts constantly and I'm not fully functional, yet I expect myself to be. My friend Julie likened me to a toddler who is struggling to walk and gain independence. Yes, just like a toddler, I'm finding myself throwing tantrums because I want my way and I want it now! I expect my life to be back to normal, but then again, I'm discovering that I don't want it to be like it was before my accident. I don't want the stress, the fear, or the overwhelm that seems to be ingrained in me.
So, I'm striving each day to get out of this old skin and fly gloriously like the cicada--with purpose, patience, grace, and acceptance of what is--and damn, sometimes it's an ugly process.