A mile in under 30 minutes - so what?

So, if nothing else has happened in the past six months or so, I have learned a few things. One of the big ones for me is baby steps. I had always been one who could look at a situation and feel overwhelmed but the enormity of it. I could be overcome with panic and grief just looking at a sink full of dishes or a pile of laundry. I felt almost instantly like I had already failed. More than once a simple task would overcome me for days while I fought off the panic. Most people, looking in, had no idea what I was struggling with internally. It was challenging and depressing because I knew that people were looking "down" at me and I didn't know what to do to change it. I have always felt like I wasn't enough. I wasn't doing enough, accomplishing enough, or doing what I did well enough. I have always considered myself to be more of a failure than anything else.

When I was a young teen, I believed that I had somehow destroyed the world for everyone. I wasn't keen on dieing, even though I considered suicide on multiple occasions, I just wanted to cease existing. It got especially bad right around my birthday. Why would anyone want to celebrate something I believed should never have happened.

Thankfully it has been many years since the last time I felt that despair for my birthday, but I have struggled with not feeling good enough even without that.

So, I was finally doing fairly well. I had a good job and had worked very hard to come through a good many things in my life. I was feeling healthier in most ways, but the stress of living with a controlling husband that bordered on abusive was taking its toll. Even so, I was hopeful that we could work through the issues together. I could relate to his lack of confidence and insecurities because of what I had lived through and with. I could identify the sources of his overt anger and tried very hard to be supportive of him while he threw tantrums and made irrational accusations. Even handling with the verbal and emotional abuse at home, I was making progress in my personal counselling sessions and was getting better and better.

Things were actually going well.

And then the assault occurred and in a moment my entire life was turned upside down.

My eye was swollen shut instantly. I couldn't completely open the other eye, either, and everything was black for quite some time. I did see stars and I was facing the opposite direction, but was still on my feet, when the spinning stopped. Nothing was making sense. My loving husband had punched me in the face, knocking my eyeball through the bottom of my eye socket and into my sinus cavity and crushing my nose.

It took hours before my father and the emergency room doctor were able to convince me that I was not going to work the next morning. I don't think I could have comprehended that it would be more than six months before I would be able to return to the job I loved. I could hardly comprehend who I was and what had happened to me. And, had I known and understood then what I know now, I probably couldn't have handled it. But now, I see what I have learned and that I could handle it - one baby step at a time!

So that's where the baby steps come in.

This morning I got up and walked a mile in under 30 minutes. I went out by myself and didn't fall down or have to stop and rest even once. Doesn't sound like much for the person I was six months ago. But for me - for now - it is something to celebrate!

On Thanksgiving day I tried to walk the three blocks to my parents house. It was a beautiful day and my oldest son was walking with me to make sure I was okay. What a burden for a 12 year old boy, but he wasn't complaining. We walked slowly with him telling me when there were cracks in the sidewalk and how far I needed to step to cross the gutter. By the time I had walked a half a block, I was trying to figure out where I could stop to rest.

First I set my sights on the library steps. I could make it that far, surely. It wasn't even a full block away. By the time I got to them, it was all I could do to keep going. But I did. There was something a little further on if I wanted to rest. I could lean against the fire hydrant. I could do this!

The fire hydrant was there and then it was gone and I was still moving.

I made it to the corner and collapsed on a bench at the war memorial. I made it a full block! Impressive!

My son was worried. He was willing to stay there with me, even though he was capable of walking much further and much faster. He is a good boy!

Now my focus was turned toward where I could stop and rest in another block. I was planning each step for the next two blocks. I was trying to plan places I could stop and rest. And I was trying to find the energy - some pocket of internal strength - to get up and keep moving. And it wasn't appearing with any enthusiasm.

I didn't make it any further than from that bench to my father's car door. He pulled up, picked me up, and drove me the last two blocks.

I had to admit and adjust to the fact that I was physically incapable of walking more than a single block. Not an easy admission to make.

I think it may have been my overt stubbornness that said I was NOT going to let this keep me down that made me decide I was not going to be babysat by my children any more when I wanted to go out. I was going to start living my life like it was my life. THAT was going to help me recover. I was positive.

I got on the bus. I could ride into town, walk across the parking lot to Smith's, walk back to the Transit Center and ride home. I had benches to rest on, but it got me out of the house. I arranged for the CAR buses to come and get me and take me where I needed to be if it was more than a block from the bus stop. The buses I had driven were suddenly my only salvation. It was hard to be in the passenger seat, but it was the best option I had.

I never quit fighting. Every day was a fight. It was a fight to sleep, to wake up, to move across a room. But I kept fighting and I kept winning a little at a time.

I could walk a half a block to a block and be okay. I learned how to turn my head to see the ground and how to judge drops and stairs so that I didn't fall so often. I paid attention to what my body told me on a minute by minute basis and chose when to give in to it and when to push it further.

So I have fought the good fight. Some days the only fight I had was with me. Some days it was with my emotions. Some days it was with my physical abilities. But through all the fights, I have realized one really important thing.

No matter how small my step for today is, it's enough.

So yesterday I walked two blocks before sitting down and falling asleep instantly. That is so great! Today I did better and I can celebrate today's accomplishments in my life! Tomorrow I may only get the dishwasher unloaded and I may not leave my house. It's okay! May not be my best day, but it's another day to celebrate! If it is just reading a page in a book - something that would have taken nearly no time or effort a few months ago - it is to be celebrated.

A mile in under 30 minutes? It's big for today! And every day is another day to celebrate, live, and enjoy. Every little baby step is one more thing to appreciate and revere. And every little baby step means I am good enough - and maybe, for today, even more!