In the Facebook group for Proximal Hamstring Injury and Surgery, we identify ourselves as being a certain number of days, weeks, or months post surgery, and we celebrate our “Hammiversary” when we reach a year past that operation, the day we had our tendons reattached with screws and sutures to the ischial tuberosity on our pelvis. I’ll celebrate my second Hammiversary this December 5th.
Today, I‘m two years post *injury*: two years from the day I played in a parents-vs-kids soccer game with Leah, kicked too high and hard without enough control or relaxation, and tore off all three of my right hamstring tendons. I’ll call it my Rupture-versary. It’s not a day I feel like celebrating.
But.
Here in the Den of Positivity & Authenticity, I recognize that when I’m feeling stuck, depressed, unsure of myself, angry, or bitter, taking a moment to be grateful – to recognize what’s going well in my life – can be a powerful step towards living a more loving and meaningful life.
But.
That shit does not always come easy.
So here’s something I learned this past year about gratitude. Gratitude isn’t just the joyful recognition of what’s going well in our lives. Gratitude is a feeling. An *emotional* energy of feeling supported, lucky, blessed, or loved. And, gratitude works in this wonderful cycle with manifestation, where focusing on the *emotions* I want to feel –
happy
free
confident
healthy
loving
loved
prosperous
sexy
strong
vital
successful
satisfied
grateful
– helps manifest the *things* in my life that I thought I had to have *first* in order to feel those emotions.
That, I love. Focusing on how I want to *feel* sounds so much easier than focusing on the solution or the story of what I have to *do* to get it. It’s not that I don’t take action to get what I want, but when I focus on how I want to feel first, and then relax about it (there’s a lot of breathing in and out involved here), the “how” of getting there starts to come to me intuitively. I shit you not.
I left a 15-year teaching career in June of 2015 because I didn’t feel happy, free, abundant, or successful. I felt worn out. I felt smart & creative, and I inspired kids to learn in ways others hadn’t before, but the workload overwhelmed me; too many kids and not enough time to assess all their work. I was putting in 110% effort and inspiration, but not seeing enough returns to match my investment. I went to bed every night feeling unsuccessful. My teacher’s contract allowed up to two years leave for “career exploration” without losing my position should I want to return, and I took them. I feel lucky I could do that.
On the day I filed my paperwork for the leave, the owner of the gym I belonged to announced she needed someone to help manage the facility while she underwent chemotherapy & radiation for breast cancer. I took the job. I felt blessed for the opportunity.
After months managing the gym and watching the trainers work, I wanted to do what they were doing, and studied to certify as a personal trainer. The owner paid for more than half my study expenses, and when I was certified she kept me on as assistant manager and hired me part time as a trainer. I felt supported & loved by her generosity & trust in me.
I’d been working as a trainer for just over a year when I overreached on that soccer kick and became…wait for it…hamstrung. Before and after surgery I felt panicked and careless and ashamed and angry and deep, deep grief. I had found work that made me happy, and then broken the instrument I needed to do the job.
My mother and sister helped my wife to care for me. My parents helped us financially. My kids reached a new level of independence taking care of themselves and our home. My boss held my job for me without knowing how long my recovery would take. My clients made meals for my family, came for visits, and gave me rides to physical therapy. My physical therapist was a kind, calm, and wise soul who made me laugh and think and encouraged me to love myself and have patience. In the months I was immobile on the couch, I watched Netflix and read and wrote. I was simultaneously horrified and thrilled.
I found a Facebook group of others across the globe who had the same rare injury. I spent hours writing about my fear and pain in that group, and the connection and community were the most healing part of my recovery. I learned that daily writing in a shared space helps me get to that place of perspective and allowance and gratitude.
I am still learning what it is to recover from injury and return to exercise, but I am able to share what I already know with my clients. I am an even better trainer.
My hamstrings still get tight and painful after too much exercise, and I have new pain in other muscles that compensate for the hamstrings, but my body is stronger than it was before – and as a result of – my injury.
I feel supported, lucky, blessed, and loved.
No accident in my accident.
Den of Positivity 