Two steps forward, one step back. The circle of life can make you feel as if you are repeating a vicious cycle and the only hope is that you will somehow break free of the rotation and get on the straight path to success.
Such is my life this past week, which I have spent shedding skin and learning to walk. Sound strange doesn’t it? On the 15th of November I had surgery, an ankle fusion. It was a three-month, non-weight bearing recovery and when you are living alone that is enough of a challenge, not to mention isolation. On the 10th of February I was told that my ankle is completely healed, I can’t hurt it. The hard cast was removed and I am free to walk on it.
I was warned that the foot would be very sensitive. They weren’t kidding! Walking is agony. I am so glad I still have the medical cane from the original accident six years ago…the kind that has four feet and stands on its own. The ankle doesn’t hurt – the foot itself does.
How bad is the foot pain? I hate shoes, they are generally the first thing I shed when I walk in the door. However my tennis shoes provide padding, much needed padding. I wore shoes inside my house all last weekend, and I am wearing tennis shoes to work this week. Once I take the shoes off inside my house I haven’t been able to walk on the cane; I have had to use my knee cart. Things are improving though. This morning I was able to walk, barely, with my cane when barefoot. Tonight barefoot meant the knee cart. I am hoping by the weekend I will finally be able to make it up the stairs and into my own bed.
At least I have stopped leaving a dead-skin trail, sort of. I had never been in a hard cast before, and after three months the leg and foot were extremely dry. I felt like a crocodile that was shedding it’s skin. I discovered moisturizing shaving cream was the best thing for washing it; better than a moisturizing soap. I now treasure my 24-hour body cream more than I ever have. I’m still slightly flaky, but not as bad — no comments from the peanut gallery please.
So I am now shedding my skin and learning to walk. I haven’t bounced back as quickly as I had hoped, but I am seeing progress every day. This morning I was able to walk out the front door and onto the porch by myself, but needed my bag carried. I hope that after a few more days I’ll be able to carry my own things in and out of the house and start driving myself to work. That is if they don’t kill me in physical therapy, which begins on Thursday.
After he left I looked at my rescuer and said “I was holding my own okay” and he agreed that I was, but didn’t like the fact that the man was standing in the lobby yelling at me. He also felt threatened by the abuser’s body language, and wasn’t sure whether it would escalate into something more.
What I learned in a quick internet search is that every nine seconds in the United States a woman is assaulted or beaten; and around the world at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in her lifetime. Children often witness the abuse, which can lead to a revolving cycle, both as men becoming abusers because they believe it to be “normal” and women being abused, because they believe that is the way all women are treated.
You approach the railroad crossing, the bars go down, you are stuck waiting for a very long train. What do you do? Do you grumble about the delay, check your cell phone while you wait, or do you enjoy the train? My six year old grandson is happy as a lark when you get stopped by a train, and the longer the better. It is exciting, there is the engine, all the different kinds of cars in multiple colors, shapes, some have graffiti, some don’t. They rumble and shake and make various sounds. Some go fast, some go slow. It is exciting to see the different things about each train and car. What a disappointment when the last car rolls by and the safety bars go back up, but if you are quick enough you can look down the track and see the train chugging away. A train through the eyes of a child.
A couple years ago my husband and I were in a restaurant that was quite busy and we had to wait for our table. I was looking around the restaurant and I mentioned to him that he and I looked very out of place. The reason being we were the only two people in the entire restaurant, both the dining and bar areas, who were not on our phones. We were talking to each other instead! That is sad….people are losing the human connection.
If you research racial injustice for the 1940’s you will find that the treatment of “Bigger” portrayed in the novel is a very accurate representation of the mindset during that era. Lynchings were common for anything and everything considered inappropriate. NAACP members campaigning to get those of African American decent the vote where removed from their homes and lynched. A 26-year old man was lynched for failing to address a police officer as “Mr.” If a white woman was attacked it was assumed that a black man had committed the crime and the “suspect” would often be captured and lynched. Justice did not prevail.
We have come a long way in the acceptance of others since the 1940’s when 
Ahhh you say, isn’t that the same thing as a resolution? Well, sort of, but it is a mind game for motivation. Which do you want to do? Which makes you feel that success is possible? You can only pick one of the following:
Eventually we get married, have children, and the fun starts again. This time we hold the magic and enjoy watching a child’s eyes sparkle with excitement when they talk about their Christmas wishes, Santa Clause and the fun of the holiday activities. We relive the magic through the eyes of our children.
If you have been a reader for a while you know that my husband, Ron, passed away December 7, 2015 and since that time I have been adjusting to living on my own. In reflecting on myself now, plans for the future and introspection of the past I have learned a few things.
Although I never paid attention to our finances and had no interest in knowing about them, I am perfectly capable of paying bills, applying for mortgage modifications, listing property for sale, and making decisions on financial assets. I’m not blindly doing what Ron told me to do as he was dying. I’m evaluating my own circumstances and making a decision that I feel comfortable with. My goal for the future is to learn how the stock market and investments work, to understand how to diversify and what everything means so I can make informed choices. Hopefully I will get a grasp on this within the next decade. I’m really walking in uncharted territory here.
What I have discovered is that it wasn’t the cooking I disliked, it was that Ron always had a criticism of some sort and tended to hover, questioning why I did things the way I did, telling me I should do things differently than I did. Nothing was ever quite good enough, there was always a “why didn’t you…” Basically, he thought I should cook just like him. After a while I tired of the negativity and simply walked away and left it to him. He cooked, I cleaned up, and it worked.
One couple and their four children arrived late for my wedding and followed my father and me down the aisle during the processional.
I am generally an on time person to slightly early person depending on what it is I am doing. I work extremely close to home and generally arrive on-the-dot for that. Other activities such as meetings I tend to arrive about 10 minutes in advance. When did I develop this habit? When I was a child. In grade school I was at the building on the playground long before the bell rang to go in. In Junior High (middle school) I was generally at the school about 15-30 minutes in advance, by high school I was there about an hour in advance, hanging with a group of other early arrivals. We had authorization to enter the library through the librarians door prior to it officially being opened. When I went back to college as an adult I was at the school at least 30 minutes prior to the start of class. By arriving at work 10 minutes prior to my work day it was once commented on how early I was. No, not early, on time!
The first time was when we had plans to go to dinner and were meeting at my house. I gave them a time of 6:45 pm, which would allow me to leave work at 6:00, get home and do the normal “arrive home” things of bringing in the mail, putting away my lunch containers, then change my clothes, touch up make-up, etc. So how did this go? When I was approaching my driveway at 6:15 their car was also signaling to turn into my drive. They were 30 minutes early! The greeting was even funnier. They exited their vehicle and said “are you late?” and I responded “No, you’re early.”
landing me in a trauma center for seventeen days, rehab for two months, and then a year of physical therapy and medical follow ups after that. Two of my granddaughters were taken by Child Protective Services and put into foster care. My husband and I applied to foster them and were denied, we later applied to adopt them and again CPS fought us and we lost. Both girls have been adopted by strangers.
I look at the list of things I have handled in the past few years and in my opinion have coped well with everything life has thrown at me. I have often felt that I have strong coping mechanisms but don’t really know why. I am baffled when people have one issue on their plate and are falling apart at the seams. I delved into the article hoping to discover what it is that makes one person successfully juggle a plethora of issues while another crumbles under the slightest amount of pressure.
downs of life and have difficulty coping you may want to read 
people I snatched it up immediately. It is so true in its most basic form. How do people become open-minded? Are they born that way? Is it the way in which they were raised? What makes one person open-minded and another close-minded?
I was reading Michelle’s post on Facebook yesterday. Many notes of sympathy and prayers. They know her, they know her husband Charlie, they know what a great couple and wonderful marriage they had. I, on the other hand, have not seen Michelle personally in years. We were together as children, but not as adults. We are in contact only by Facebook now. However, I can truly feel her pain.
--- LIFE IS A MELTING POT --- Grace Grogan...Writer, Photographer 