Becoming Buddhist

Attempting to Live a More Mindful Life

Sorting It All Out


Since my surgery a week and a half ago, I’ve run through the gamut of emotions, not to mention aches and pains. But I have not meditated even once. I know, I get hung up on the practice–but then, it is a practice. One I’m not doing, despite many hours at home and even a good chunk of alone time.

My tiny, tiny scar--and the weirdness that is stitches, dried blood, and glue in my belly button. The camera, and then some instruments, went in one of these incisions, I'm not sure which.

My tiny, tiny scar–and the weirdness that is stitches, dried blood, and glue in my belly button. The camera, and then some instruments, went in one of these incisions, I’m not sure which.

My daily resting place has moved from the bed, where I was fairly ensconced until Wednesday of last week, to a sunny spot on the couch. My father-in-law asked me yesterday what the “rehab plan” was. I said, “you’re looking at it.” I take a short walk every afternoon, I get up to pee or make myself food when no one else is around to do it. I can now take a shower with no fear of passing out. Marc drives me everywhere we need to go (not many places). My parents have left. Lex keeps saying, “Are you better now, Mama?” and the other night, when I was crying, he asked, “Are you doing okay, Mama?”

This may make it sound like I’ve been quite depressed, and I haven’t been. I’ve been amazed by how upbeat certain moments have felt; when you go to the brink and come back, there’s a certain joy to be found in things like fresh-squeezed juice, smoked salmon on toast, Netflix on demand, a good book. But I also feel in the last 48 hours like maybe the emotional piece is starting. I have been wondering whether my butt is still on the couch because I’m actually exhausted or because I just don’t want to go outside, get fresh air, run into anyone, think about whether I want to try again, any of it.

You know what’s weird? When you start wishing you were back in the hospital and you had to do it all over. Marc said maybe it’s like prison, you get out and then part of you wants to go back in. I don’t think that’s it, exactly, but nonetheless this healing phase, this almost-better phase, is much tougher, emotionally, than when I was hopped up on Vicodin and nauseated and the knowledge that I could have died was very fresh in my mind. Today I faced the boring realities of a Monday: calling to get out of jury duty, checking in with my work, arranging playdates for Lex. It’s kind of like life continues as it was, only I got spun off the axis and landed somewhere…else.

I guess I am hiding out.

Author: becomingbuddhist

I am a writer, teacher, and mother living in Northern California. Recently I decided to try an experiment in living more mindfully. This blog is my testimonial.

4 thoughts on “Sorting It All Out

  1. I am sure it must be incredibly difficult, but it takes courage to commit the words to “paper” as you have done… Keep writing, keep breathing, one word, one breath at a time. Be sad when you are sad, joyful when joy comes… Blessings to you and your family~

  2. Ah yes, the re-integration. I hate that part. The part where things start looking normal but they feel nothing like normal. Today, my midwife said to me, as I was telling her about the current and blessed lapse in negativity I’ve had around my pregnancy, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but mostly I’m glad you are and have been fully showing up.” I feel that way so much about you in this situation. Way to effing show up, for all of this. Even the gross bloody bellybutton parts. Its showing up that IS the meditation in my opinion. And you’re doing it.

  3. When healing, I think it’s important to give yourself lots of space to feel, be and sleep :), and to do it all in your own time. Big hugs!

  4. Pingback: Feeling the Life Force « Becoming Buddhist

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