becoming infinite

always learning. always growing. always lifting heavy things.

it’s all about the wordplay.


Are you prepared to take a dive into the deep end of my head?
Are you listening to a single word I’ve said?

i had the most glorious day. my thesis was officially accepted; the department chair got myself and the other graduating masters student each a dozen roses; i gave my students their final exam, which was sad but we had a lot of fun, and they all did really well; my yoga students gave me a card as a thank you and good luck for my surgery; i came home to lovely facebook posts from some of my students.

it was a day to feel loved.

and you know what i’ve been doing? fucking panicking about this surgery. but not the fact that i’m going under anesthesia and having my leg opened up and a crucial part of my knee replaced. no, i’m spazzing because i’m going to be unable to walk, let alone run or spin or freaking MOVE, for the next god knows how long.

i’m melting down because i don’t know how to handle not being able to work out. because no matter how ‘strongly recovered’ i might be, the fact is that throwing my world into a tailspin like this is terrifying.

if i don’t move – work out, run, lift, whatever – i don’t know how to handle my body. i don’t know how to feed it. i don’t know what to do with it. and i certainly don’t know how to like it.

i’ve built a large part of my identity around being a fitness girl – being a runner, a group fitness instructor, a yogi, somebody who can squat her own body weight thankyouverymuch. what the hell am i going to be these next few weeks?

an injured runner/group fitness instructor/yogi who seems awfully bitchy all the goddamn time.

recovery didn’t become significantly more difficult at all of the times one would have expected: when my mom died, when my relationship crumbled, when my dad got a new girlfriend. at each of those junctures, it would have been admissible – almost guardedly expected – for me to falter. but instead of turning to the familiarity of old habits…i ate like a champ and ran like one.

i don’t know what’s going to happen, and that scares the shit out of me. i want to rise from this victorious and proud, but behind that wish is always the whisper of that broken girl i thought i had finally left behind. again and again.



Author: jenn

impossible to define; indefinitely impossible. maybe i'll add more here later.

9 thoughts on “it’s all about the wordplay.

  1. I understand, your concerns make perfect sense. I really hope that you are able to hang in there while you let your body heal, but I know that it won’t be easy. When I was in the hospital this last time they made me make a huge list of things to do to keep myself busy when I am experiencing different levels of pain- like, if I am at a 3 (on the 1-10 pain scale) I can walk the dog, or clean the house, if I am at a 7 I can write, or paint, or watch netflix. That kind of list might be helpful for you post-op. Just an idea 🙂 Also, know that I am home, stuck on the couch, most of the day, so feel free to e-mail, IM, text or whatever anytime! Love you, girly! I admire you so much… xoxoxo

    • i like that idea! i have some projects to work on, and desperate housewives to watch haha. i start PT on monday so that’ll keep me occupied too. ❤ you!!

  2. I’m sure everything will be ok! I would be scared too, I’ve never had to do anything surgical before. The most I had to do was get one wisdom tooth removed and I was awake for the whole thing (heavily drugged and numbed) but still awake. But I don’t think you should worry about post-op stuff. Because you’re so athletic, you’ll bounce back fast with physical therapy and stuff! Keep us updated!

  3. When I had my accident and was in a wheelchair for several months, told I’d never walk again, I had these fears. And they are very valid ones, even if it will only be a short time you will be not be nearly as mobile as you would like to be. But the upside? I had to use my arms to do EVERYTHING. My arms are way stronger now. And, as a person, I am way stronger now. I know I can get through anything (like this chemo) because I got through that. I did a LOT of writing and art while I was unable to use my legs. I let those emotions out those ways, and not stopping letting them out until I didn’t have the energy to purge. I was frequently on the phone with supportive friends who kept me sane and healthy eating disorder-wise, and who would listen to me bitch, moan and cry how ever often I needed. And these things got me through it. (If you don’t still have my number and need someone, PM me on Facebook and I’ll gladly give it to you.) Immerse yourself in writing, either here, in a journal, scraps of paper, whatever. Keep your hands busy. Keep your mind busy. You *will* get through this time. I have full faith in you. ♥

    • thank you so much. one thing i truly am looking forward to is writing, and writing and writing. i think it will be good for me, and if i can, in my more positive moments, see this as a challenge and opportunity for growth, i know i’ll come out of it okay.

      you’re a damn strong woman, by the by, and i adore you.

      • You will come out of it OK. Because that’s your one option. :o) And because you rock out loud!

        I adore you x100000.

  4. I just want you to know that you’re great. You’re a great person, a great writer, a great woman. You have done SO MUCH and it’s inspiring. I am in awe of what you can do. So just remember who you are and who you want to be. Even with an injury, you’re still a runner. You’re still a yogi. And you’re still an inspiration. Be strong! And good luck today (though I think your surgery is currently happening…). Much lub.

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