I love fall. I felt so creative on Monday (the first day). I had one of the best aerial rehearsals that I've had probably since before Gnometenna Removal of 2008.
Speaking of the Little ACL That Could, it's been 7 months since surgery. And I'm getting ready for an aerial performance on November 1st. Cool huh?
Can't say that it's 100 percent, because it's not, but I'll wait until 1 year has passed until I start to get *really* annoyed. I'm not gigging as much as I want to [uh...strike that...] At All, but hopefully once I get this act together I'll be on the radar a little more. It's getting frustrating. Not going to lie.
I'm being overwhelmed with these huge feelings of self doubt in regards to 2 seperate classes/workshops coming up that I'm going to be participating in. One is an audition class and the other is a "masters" scene study. I'm being overwhelmed with huge feelings of self doubt in regards to these two things. Did I already say that? Springfield is a part of us all...a part of us all...a part of us all...
I wish the damn leaves would start their changin' already. I wish a lot of things. That's the one that is pretty likely will happen whether I do something about it or not.
Hmm. How hopeless of me.
Showing posts with label ACL update. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ACL update. Show all posts
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Cartwheels.
Yesterday while I was teaching a circus class a student asked me to demonstrate a simple tumbling sequence that I had asked them to do. It involved a lunge, straight leg lift, cartwheel, half turn, into a backwards roll. A cartwheel. My physical therapist had come to class (beyond the call of duty, right?) to see the kind of things I need to be able to do...so I looked over at her and said..."can I try a cartwheel?" She smiled and nodded.
I felt my heart lurch a little. Never in my life had I been nervous to try a cartwheel. It's my knee. It knows...stop be scared...
So, 6 months after tearing my ACL by doing a partner cartwheel...I did a cartwheel. I had complete control, and nothing bad happened. I don't know if I'll ever be able to try a partner cartwheel again, but never say never. I'm coming up on 5 months out from surgery. I hear that 6 and then 8 months are when things start to feel more "normal". Whatever that means.
Small victories...
I felt my heart lurch a little. Never in my life had I been nervous to try a cartwheel. It's my knee. It knows...stop be scared...
So, 6 months after tearing my ACL by doing a partner cartwheel...I did a cartwheel. I had complete control, and nothing bad happened. I don't know if I'll ever be able to try a partner cartwheel again, but never say never. I'm coming up on 5 months out from surgery. I hear that 6 and then 8 months are when things start to feel more "normal". Whatever that means.
Small victories...
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Day That Rocked.
When J.K. Rowling wrote about Time Turners in the HP books, I think she tapped into something much more powerful than the idea of some external thing that slows down time for you. I think, (and stay with me here) that we have the ability to slow down time for things that are that important to us. Hermionie slowed down time for her education. Yesterday, for one of the first times in a very Very long time, I found myself being able to slow down time for being.
Sometimes, you're lucky enough to have days that stick out in your memory as so far from your normal routien that it almost feels like someone else's life. Then you get sad because you want that to Be YOUR life, but then you realize, hey, wait a minute, that was my life...and vow to make it happen more and more.
I didn't feel like I was in Chicago yesterday. I felt like I was sitting in a field on some distant planet somewhere (and some of the infrared pictures certianly helped that!) where time just sort of s l o w e d d o w n . . .
When's the last time I went on a honest to goodness picnic? Like, a serious blanketandsandwitchesandwineinplasticcupsandkickyourshoesoff picnic? It was back when there'd be juice in those plastic cups, I can tell you THAT, at least. And it was probably in my own back yard during summer vacation, where I didn't have to worry about anything Anyway.
One of the hardest things for me to do (in the world, I think) is to stop. Because honestly, I don't know what what to do when I stop. Yes yes I see you shaking your head "Just do Nothing!" Right. Nothing. Good idea. ::sarcastic head tilt and hand gesture:: It's really hard to do nothing. I know how sharks feel, you know. If they stop swimming they'll drown (seriously!). I know, I know, I'm not a shark. But sometimes I get worried that if I stop, even for a moment, that I won't be able to start up again.
The good thing is, that theory was proven wrong. Turns out, stopping, especially with good friends around, is highly theraputic and a lot easier to "deal with" than I thought. There were a few moments at the start of The Stopping where my brain started firing off "Ack! You should be at the gym!" or "Eep! Don't eat that!" or "Say something! Ah! EnterTAIN!!" But I was able to turn those things off by playing with the pretty cameras that were spread out on the blanket.
After The Day That Rocked was coming to an end for me, I went back to the aerial space to practice a bit and to have a quiet place to go through my lines for an audition that I have later today.
I found the song "Transatlantisism" on my music player and plugged it into the speakers. It was song I had discovered and listened to obsessively on my way to and from the Huge Christmas Gig. I choreographed acts in my head to that song over and over...I was so happy during that show...the process...even the drive getting there...I felt so lucky during that time.
I started the song, put my script down, and started dancing (as best as I could with a still BeCarefulWithMe-knee) with the trapeze. (Did I tell you that 3 months ToTheDay after surgery, I tried a knee hang for the first time? Cool, right?) I got on it and moved to the song. Tried to do some of the choreography that I'd come up with 5 months ago and couldn't do most of it but at least I remembered.
I felt all of those old feelings that I first had when I was listening to it in the car all those months back...I moved and sat and hung and drapped myself over the bar, ropes, being careful with my knee but just trying to do it. Feeling supported by the warm-fuzzies of the day, of friends who will lay around with you on a blanket and not need you to entertain them.
I started to cry. And more tears came. When the song was over I went and put it on repeat. I felt The Stopping again. I turned it up and cried my eyes out. I cried and cried for being able to start to be back...I cried for the time lost...I cried for being lonely...I cried for being so greatful...I cried for the fears I mostly had put to rest by friends the night before...I cried for the Little Training Space that despite the rats and bad neighborhood, was the first place I feel like I actually trained in...I cried for how I isolate myself...I cried for how excited I am about the next few months...I cried because I know it's all going to work out...I cried because I'm frustrated with my body...I cried because on warm summery nights I miss being at home surrounded by a lot of people...I cried because I had 2 wonderful friends that I really just met in October lay on the ground looking up at the sky for hours, talking to me like we've known each other forever...I cried because I'm so unsure...I cried because I still feel left out sometimes...I cried because I was so happy...I cried because people understand...I cried because I Stopped and didn't know what else to do.
Sometimes, you're lucky enough to have days that stick out in your memory as so far from your normal routien that it almost feels like someone else's life. Then you get sad because you want that to Be YOUR life, but then you realize, hey, wait a minute, that was my life...and vow to make it happen more and more.
I didn't feel like I was in Chicago yesterday. I felt like I was sitting in a field on some distant planet somewhere (and some of the infrared pictures certianly helped that!) where time just sort of s l o w e d d o w n . . .
When's the last time I went on a honest to goodness picnic? Like, a serious blanketandsandwitchesandwineinplasticcupsandkickyourshoesoff picnic? It was back when there'd be juice in those plastic cups, I can tell you THAT, at least. And it was probably in my own back yard during summer vacation, where I didn't have to worry about anything Anyway.
One of the hardest things for me to do (in the world, I think) is to stop. Because honestly, I don't know what what to do when I stop. Yes yes I see you shaking your head "Just do Nothing!" Right. Nothing. Good idea. ::sarcastic head tilt and hand gesture:: It's really hard to do nothing. I know how sharks feel, you know. If they stop swimming they'll drown (seriously!). I know, I know, I'm not a shark. But sometimes I get worried that if I stop, even for a moment, that I won't be able to start up again.
The good thing is, that theory was proven wrong. Turns out, stopping, especially with good friends around, is highly theraputic and a lot easier to "deal with" than I thought. There were a few moments at the start of The Stopping where my brain started firing off "Ack! You should be at the gym!" or "Eep! Don't eat that!" or "Say something! Ah! EnterTAIN!!" But I was able to turn those things off by playing with the pretty cameras that were spread out on the blanket.
After The Day That Rocked was coming to an end for me, I went back to the aerial space to practice a bit and to have a quiet place to go through my lines for an audition that I have later today.
I found the song "Transatlantisism" on my music player and plugged it into the speakers. It was song I had discovered and listened to obsessively on my way to and from the Huge Christmas Gig. I choreographed acts in my head to that song over and over...I was so happy during that show...the process...even the drive getting there...I felt so lucky during that time.
I started the song, put my script down, and started dancing (as best as I could with a still BeCarefulWithMe-knee) with the trapeze. (Did I tell you that 3 months ToTheDay after surgery, I tried a knee hang for the first time? Cool, right?) I got on it and moved to the song. Tried to do some of the choreography that I'd come up with 5 months ago and couldn't do most of it but at least I remembered.
I felt all of those old feelings that I first had when I was listening to it in the car all those months back...I moved and sat and hung and drapped myself over the bar, ropes, being careful with my knee but just trying to do it. Feeling supported by the warm-fuzzies of the day, of friends who will lay around with you on a blanket and not need you to entertain them.
I started to cry. And more tears came. When the song was over I went and put it on repeat. I felt The Stopping again. I turned it up and cried my eyes out. I cried and cried for being able to start to be back...I cried for the time lost...I cried for being lonely...I cried for being so greatful...I cried for the fears I mostly had put to rest by friends the night before...I cried for the Little Training Space that despite the rats and bad neighborhood, was the first place I feel like I actually trained in...I cried for how I isolate myself...I cried for how excited I am about the next few months...I cried because I know it's all going to work out...I cried because I'm frustrated with my body...I cried because on warm summery nights I miss being at home surrounded by a lot of people...I cried because I had 2 wonderful friends that I really just met in October lay on the ground looking up at the sky for hours, talking to me like we've known each other forever...I cried because I'm so unsure...I cried because I still feel left out sometimes...I cried because I was so happy...I cried because people understand...I cried because I Stopped and didn't know what else to do.
Monday, May 19, 2008
3 Months.
Happy 3 months New ACL.
My check-up a few days ago was uneventful, mostly with the doctor admiring his handy-work. Talking to the med student (who looked to be about 12) more than me..."Now, this patient had a doner graft ACL reconstruction, healing perfectly, if someone were to feel this [rubs his finger along the scar to the lower medial side of my kneecap] they wouldn't believe she ever had leg surgery."
?
Sigh.
The good thing about the visit though, is that he said I could SLOWLY start trying to do some knee hangs again. I.E., start training.
"Soft tissue takes 12 months to heal. But I'm not going to limit you to 12 months. Just no side to side yet and GO SLOWLY."
The thing that I've been wanting to hear the most ever since the day of the injury happened. Go back to normal, so to speak.
While I've been desperately wanting to start training again, there's a part of me that's now feeling like...Oh...Shit...now I have to face that thing of getting back into shape, and re-learning, and retracing steps that I've already done. And I need to start to deal with the fear associated with trying to trust my body again. What are the limits that I can go to? Are there any? There will be for the next few months still...but after that...then what?
Beth had a good point in that she pointed out that "you like the training part. you like the learning part. love the fact that you're sore and are getting back to it."
A wise thing to say, and a good way to shift my attitude about it. Can't say that I'll totally take away the frustration that'll be there, but it's a start.
It definately feels better every day, though last week was frustrating because it felt like it was regressing slightly, sort of wonky, not feeling great, quad hurt, blah blahBLAH. But it's doing ok today.
When I first realized I was going to need to get this thing fixed, my biggest 'bummer' of the whole thing was that I was going to be missing being in a show with my aerial company. After hearing the time line for 'healing', (and adjusting for my own personal Bad-Ass Quotent and Stubbornness Factor) I put myself at being able to "do stuff" right around when the show opened.
How ironic. And true.
My check-up a few days ago was uneventful, mostly with the doctor admiring his handy-work. Talking to the med student (who looked to be about 12) more than me..."Now, this patient had a doner graft ACL reconstruction, healing perfectly, if someone were to feel this [rubs his finger along the scar to the lower medial side of my kneecap] they wouldn't believe she ever had leg surgery."
?
Sigh.
The good thing about the visit though, is that he said I could SLOWLY start trying to do some knee hangs again. I.E., start training.
"Soft tissue takes 12 months to heal. But I'm not going to limit you to 12 months. Just no side to side yet and GO SLOWLY."
The thing that I've been wanting to hear the most ever since the day of the injury happened. Go back to normal, so to speak.
While I've been desperately wanting to start training again, there's a part of me that's now feeling like...Oh...Shit...now I have to face that thing of getting back into shape, and re-learning, and retracing steps that I've already done. And I need to start to deal with the fear associated with trying to trust my body again. What are the limits that I can go to? Are there any? There will be for the next few months still...but after that...then what?
Beth had a good point in that she pointed out that "you like the training part. you like the learning part. love the fact that you're sore and are getting back to it."
A wise thing to say, and a good way to shift my attitude about it. Can't say that I'll totally take away the frustration that'll be there, but it's a start.
It definately feels better every day, though last week was frustrating because it felt like it was regressing slightly, sort of wonky, not feeling great, quad hurt, blah blahBLAH. But it's doing ok today.
When I first realized I was going to need to get this thing fixed, my biggest 'bummer' of the whole thing was that I was going to be missing being in a show with my aerial company. After hearing the time line for 'healing', (and adjusting for my own personal Bad-Ass Quotent and Stubbornness Factor) I put myself at being able to "do stuff" right around when the show opened.
How ironic. And true.
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