Fractured

A couple of months ago I was hiking beside a waterfall in the upper peninsula of Michigan, slipped on a wet rock, and broke my arm.  I didn’t actually know it was broken, because while it hurt like crazy when I first did it, within a few minutes it just felt sore and a couple of days later was improving.  I thought I just strained my wrist a bit.  I wrapped it and went about my life.  I hiked some more, I lifted heavy things, I picked up my kids and my friends’ kids, I took the wrap off to sleep or when it got annoying.  I went about my business as usual.  It was sore.  No big deal.

When it didn’t improve after a couple of weeks, I went for x-rays just so people would stop telling me I should, and found out that I had cracked both bones in my arm.  Both very minor fractures, but  fractures  just the same.  The doctor gave me a removable cast, saying that I could take it off to shower or do the dishes if necessary, but that I should keep it on at all other times, even when I sleep, to be sure not to injure the arm further.

So suddenly, I was paranoid.  I didn’t lift things with that arm.  I took the cast off to wash dishes and was nervous about picking up a bowl with it.  I found myself basically doing dishes with one hand, all the while telling myself I was being ridiculous, but unconvinced. 

I think I do this emotionally, too.  I often have a mild feeling of discomfort, wondering if maybe people think my hair looks funny or my nose is too big or I talk too much or I’m selfish and needy.  I’ve never been told these things are true, but I worry about them somewhere in the back of my brain, waiting for some sort of confirmation.  And then one day I pass an acquaintance  in the hall and they ignore me, or a friend tells me that I’m acting weird, or someone jokes about my wind-blown hair, and suddenly I’m paranoid. 

Suddenly I’m waking up earlier to spend more time on my hair, or I’m overanalyzing everything I say or do around my friends, or I’m being extra friendly to the acquaintance who ignored me (or avoiding them altogether).  I know it’s ridiculous.  I’m 35 years old, have some really great friends, and I know, in my head, that there’s really nothing wrong with me.  And yet.

One day a couple of weeks before my “follow-up” doctor’s appointment, I took my cast off and moved my arm around a bit.  I flexed it slowly.  I moved it gently in a circle.  I bent my wrist from side to side.  It felt strong.  It felt able to handle more than I was giving it.  I left the cast off for the day to see how it felt.  (And plus I was going to be out in the sun all day and didn’t want funky tan lines!)  I was careful with it…I didn’t lift heavy things or move it too much.  But I “practiced”.

The next day it was a little sore.  I put the cast back on and took it easy for the day.  But it was just a few days before I stopped wearing the cast altogether, unless I knew for sure that there was a chance I could strain it.  And a couple of weeks ago the doctor proclaimed me “healed”.  My arm  feels strong, and it’s no longer sore at all.  The muscles are still a little weak sometimes, so I know that it’s time for me to start exercising it and building it back up again.

I’ve also been exercising my confidence.  I am practicing being more sure of myself.  I’m stepping out and stating my opinions, and I’m being me.  I’m still unsure sometimes.  It’s a weak area, and there are times when I’ve lost sleep over what “she” thinks or what “he” said.  But I can only get stronger.  And just as someday I will do a cartwheel with my daughter without worrying about that arm, there will also come a time when it’s not an effort to be myself with confidence.  The day will come when I don’t have to practice anymore.  It won’t be long.

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My Blogger Party Dream

Goo woke me this morning at 7ish, and after getting him settled with his older brother and sister, I went back to bed for a while.  It is times like these that I dream most vividly, and that I remember my dreams the best, and today was no exception.  Today I dreamed that I was at a party with a bunch of my bloggy friends…mostly people that I was pretty friendly with when I was at my old blog on Blogger…some of whom have not followed me over to my new blog. 

In my dream, I sat next to Mishi and rocked little Alexis to sleep while her blog-famous Mom was sociable. I waited excitedly to meet Lunanik because she was running late. There were others there that I don’t know. There was a beautiful Indian woman with her three gorgeous daughters. There was a woman with curly hair and glasses who had, like, eight children. Stella and I had a great chat. Mamarazzi was there dressed all in pink. It was a fun dream.

And yet, just as in real life, I felt slightly seperated from a few of those bloggers I admire most. Mr. Lady, BusyDad, and Huckdoll were huddled in a corner in deep conversation. OhMommy was looking fab in her stillettos, chatting with Joeprah.  I stood back and watched.  I was envious of their connection.  I wanted to be a part of it. 

I think about this, though, and I don’t understand myself.  These are all people I am on friendly terms with.  Busydad and I have had some great conversations via comments.  Huckdoll stood up for me in a major, humbling way when I got some hate mail.  Joeprah gave me a great review once on his blog.  All of these other bloggers would be, I’m sure, generous and friendly and gracious and wonderful if I were to meet them in person.  They would not, in a million years, think of me as “less” than them, even though my readership, especially here at my new blog, has gone way down and I’ve been posting much less than I used to.  So the fact is, the problem lies with me.  Once again, I feel inadequate.  Once again, I feel not good enough.  And as a result, I’m being held back by my own low self-expectations. 

I know it was just a dream, but I should have gotten up and talked to those people standing around.  Why would I wait for them to approach me?  I am not shy.  I am not introverted.  I am outgoing and friendly and funny and fun.  Why am I so afraid?  Why do I think that I will be rejected?

I think dreams can, at times, teach us a lot about ourselves.  This one, for sure, showed me just how much I’m hurting myself by having these ridiculous fears.  It taught me that I need to think more of myself than I do, and I need to figure out a way to gain confidence and to know that I’m a pretty great person.  Other people tell me all the time.  It’s time I started believing them.