Sunday, October 9, 2011

I Still Baby My Right Side

I have been writing this blog mostly about my life change that happened seven years ago.  Mostly because, after years of surviving the ripple effect of this bomb (these bombs? and other associated land mines?) that dropped into my life, I find myself in a new place of acceptance.

And it was this week, that a spunky, loud spin instructor helped me along.  (She sold herself as a centered, peaceful, yoga-spin-combo spinner; I need to talk to her about her packaging.  Calm waters blue should not wrap a firecracker).

The music was thumping, but with a sitar in the mix, "Interesting..." I thought.  But I was down.  After all, my usual spin lady climaxes our workout with the Chili Peppers.

And we were off: legs spinning, heart pumping, breathing heavy.

"Lizzy!," she shouts, "Do you favor your right side?"
"Do you favor your right side?  Do you have an injury on your right side?"

I mean, how do I answer this?  How?  Enter Lizzy A and Lizzy B.  Lizzy A speaks out loud.  Lizzy B uses lots of profanity, but keeps that to herself.

Lizzy A, "No, why? ... I mean, years ago, but..."
"Well, you are favoring your right side.  You are so young!  You are going to injure yourself.  Use your right side evenly."
Lizzy B, already as angry as a swatted hornet, "Um...okay.  Give me a f***ing second while I tell my body to please forget that it was HALF F***ING numb and took years to recover to where I am now.  And GOING to injure myself...going to..."  This is the mild version...
Lizzy A was honest, "I don't know how to fix that."
"Stick your right elbow out."   Lizzy A and Lizzy B, "Okay.  Thanks."
Mind you, the music is pounding and there is a workout class as our audience.

20 minutes later: "Lizzy!  Your right side!"
Lizzy A, "I'm trying!!!"  (My friend in the class laughed sympathetically - bless her).
Lizzy B, "And F*** you."  Lizzy A said this through her body language.

Some unearthed anger, much?  Yes.  And it says a lot of F-yous.  (Say an amen if grace sounds even sweeter). Thankfully, I have a filter that has functioned pretty well through these years of having a hidden handicap.  I know it is not HER fault.  It is my story still finding its voice.  And truthfully, this anger is mostly helpful, as it shows the places I have not yet healed.  If the F-bomb pops up, I know I've got something to move through.

And bless my spin instructor.  God bless her.  She really helped me; she saw me.  She saw even what I could not see: I still baby my right side.

Afterwards we talked for quite a while.  I shared bits of my story and she did hers too.  She has survived lymphoma: "It totally changed the way I did sit-ups."  Well, there you go.

My right side is sore this week and I am exhausted after my work outs.  Elbow out and this baby is growing up.  

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