Moving Forward on 4 Legs

In order to walk our talk, sometimes we just need a change of pace

Photo by Ilene Bergelson

I’ve spent a good chunk of this year on crutches. I’m not speaking figuratively; in May I sustained a leg injury that took two surgeries to address. Actually, not just crutches. I’ve spent much of the last seven months using some assisted device or other to get around. I’d say it’s humbling (and a fabulous upper body strengthener), but the asking and allowing of help is the real source of humility. Since it’s not my first time at this rodeo, I am less hung up by how I’m seen by others when I show up with four legs, so to speak.

My crutches and I go places, maybe not the same way as I when I’m on two feet alone, but we manage to get there. On my birthday, I walked over a mile each way to a restaurant to enjoy dinner al fresco with a friend. It was well over 90 degrees and she was patient (probably grateful too) for the many times we needed to stop along the way. One of my sisters has seen me through the second surgery (no easy task) and escorted me all the way to my folks, where I am now. The shortest part of that trip was the plane ride.

I’m a big believer in taking pauses, in the power of honoring the moment and in Being first and Doing (if even warranted) second. And yet, I can attest from many instances where something in my life landed me on crutches (figuratively and literally), that not being able to move the same way we usually do or without greater effort does not mean that our best option is always to stand still and wait it out.

It’s hard to imagine the snowball effect that would have cascaded had I not moved at all over the past seven months. What if I had just said, “I’m not going to do this until I can do it normally (whatever that is)”? The way I figure it, I would have been adding to my leg injury by shooting myself in foot (figuratively).

Acceptance. What a gift not to argue with reality. What is that reality, you ask? Sure, I’ve had to move differently, with help and with plenty more moments of respite, but over these past seven months and in the months ahead, I am getting where I’m going. I accept that it’s different and that I’m working diligently to develop my ability to carry myself without crutches. I’m in the middle ground of this process and all I need to do is take it one step at a time.

One step at a time. I can honestly say that I am walking my talk. So much so that I’ve managed to do something I’ve never done before: I’ve worn clear through my crutch tips. My folks are headed to the store to buy replacements as we speak. They are amazing and they don’t want me to be collecting dust on the couch either.

Guess I’m making strides at accepting help.

What are your crutches, literal or figurative? How do their presence differ from the life you expected or wanted to be living right now? Are they an excuse or an assist? Are you using their presence to stay stuck or move forward?

My crutches and I have made peace. We are working together so that I’ll be able to go on without them when their job is done. I’ll be logging some miles on the new tips, you can count on that. It’ll be a while before I’ll be taking strides on two feet alone, and that’s ok. If you find yourself walking through life on four legs (literally or figuratively), I encourage you too, to make peace and take it one step at a time.