WordSisters

Tag: Tae Kwon Do

  • She Did

    On the day of our sale, when the buyer signed and I knew—really knew—that our home was sold, I felt the pressure of years gathering in my chest. Tears burst out.

    I was standing in the kitchen of our RV when the weight of it hit me.

    I was not four years old, or eight, or ten, or a teenager. My twenties were behind me.

    My survival had become a life. A home. A marriage. Children raised in safety. Love sustained over decades.

    How did this girl who came from dirt, chaos, filth, take care of a home for thirty years?

    How did this girl, who knew nothing about how to keep a relationship together, stay married for twenty-eight years?

    How did this girl, who was so abused, not abuse her children? Not allow them to be abused? Not raise a hand to them?

    How did this girl, who was not raised by love, raise with love?

    How did this girl insist that her children learn how to protect themselves? That they had a duty to protect themselves?

    How did this girl, whose body belonged to everyone else, keep her soul her own?

    She lived through their abuse, their dislike, their disdain, their ridicule, their name-calling. She lived through it.

    Slowly, steadily, methodically, she took the next step. And then another.

    She built a life the same way she healed—one small choice at a time.

    Her saving grace was realizing she could finally say:

    No more.

    I don’t need you.

    I don’t need to mother you.

    I don’t need to be your keeper.

    I don’t need to be needed by you.

    I am enough by myself.

    And then she began to see possibility. To see life.

    Jody.

    A relationship that mattered. One worth fighting for.

    She learned to communicate. To apologize. To stay when staying was hard. To work things out.

    Her healing continued because that responsibility belonged to her. No more giving up her thoughts. No more giving up her right to decide what was right for her.

    She would decide.

    She would become her own best friend. Her own witness. She would build a relationship with her spirit, with her soul.

    Thirty years later, standing between what was and what will be, she understands something fully:

    They did not get to decide who she would become.

    She did.

    The little girl who survived became the woman who lived.

    Tae Kwon Do, a family affair

  • Crossing Over to the Other Side

    crutches-350x350[1]I blamed Tae Kwon Do for the broken foot and bum knee. I told myself I’d be all right If I did an alternate exercise.

    Not so.

    I’ve learned that I’ve reached the age where you don’t fight through pain. You respect it. Pain means I stop what I’m doing and alter my workout. If not, I’m likely to be using crutches.

    A couple of weeks ago, I could feel a twinge in my knee every time I took a step. It wasn’t from Tae Kwon Do. I hadn’t returned to Tae Kwon Do since I broke my foot last year. I thought I could walk myself right through the pain and come out the other side where it would feel better and I would be the stronger for it.

    Yeah, right.

    By the end of my workday, I could barely hobble to my car.

    At home, Jody got me a broom to use as a crutch. The thought of walking upstairs or downstairs was too much. I wanted to fly up those steps. You miss being healthy the most when you’re not healthy.

    182[1]Saturday morning, I was TRIA’s first customer. I told Jody I could drive myself. I knew once the receptionist saw me coming in the door that I’d be placed in a wheelchair. I put the broom in the back seat of the car just in case I needed it to get from the car to the door of the clinic.

    A knee brace, steroid shot, and a pair of crutches later, I shuffled out of TRIA.

    Lesson learned. It wasn’t Tae Kwon Do. It wasn’t the Boot Camp at YMCA. It was me who had crossed over to where the truism, “No Pain, No Gain” wasn’t true anymore.

    I’m still learning lessons. I went to the YMCA to see what I could do with my newfound knowledge of respecting pain. I went from machine to machine. If it hurt, then I tried something else. Finally, I found what I was looking for—a cardio machine that is similar to skating and skiing that allows you to prepare for all sports that require lateral movement in your legs. I would have been okay had I stopped there. There was a diagram on the machine that showed how you could do squats at the same time as your lateral movement.

    The next day, I felt as if I was kicked in the side by a horse. Now, I limped and I couldn’t straighten up.

    You don’t miss health as much as when you don’t have it.

    Well, there’s swimming. If I don’t drown.

  • My MCL Sprain is Trying to Age Me

    My MCL Sprain is Trying to Age Me

    Years ago before I was a black belt and the children were young
    Years ago before I was a black belt and before the children were 2nd Dan

    It’s become this independent burning sensation on the inner part of my knee.
    Oh, there it is, I’ll say, when I feel it. Then I’ll take an ibuprofen.
    I’ve Googled, What is that burning? Does that mean my MCL is healing? Or, that it’s getting worse? An MCL sprain is a nag.
    I didn’t listen to the nag in Tae Kwon Do even though I felt a twinge in my knee that told me to take it easy. I’m not that old, I said to myself. I’ll kick my way through it. And, besides, at that point it was just a minor annoyance. I didn’t ice my knee after class because my knee would be okay the next day just like it always was.

    My former self.
    My former self with Jody.

    The next morning, I almost fell getting out of bed. I couldn’t bear my weight. Without warning I was transported to my chronological age of 56 year(s), 6 month(s), and 2 day(s).
    I hobbled for weeks before I went to the doctor.
    I wanted to know if I was injuring myself beyond repair for not listening to the nag and I wanted the medical term for what was badgering me.
    An MCL injury is a sprain or tear to the medial collateral ligament. The MCL is a band of tissue on the inside of your knee.
    I refuse to let my MCL age me.
    11034339_10205241803538815_4078779682495764301_oI’ve continued to kick at Tae Kwon Do (just maybe a little slower, a little lower and a little more carefully).

    I stood all night long as a Police Reserve Officer at a middle school dance (well, maybe I sat for a moment on the bleachers in the darkened gym).

    I still walked 3 miles at lunch time, (okay, a few times I turned around because I didn’t think that I could walk through the pain).
    Sometimes, I don’t appreciate my health until it diminishes. Then all I want is to be returned to my former self. And then I read a Facebook post about someone who has it a lot worse than me. That is where I presently am. Feeling the burn, taking ibuprofen. Putting it into perspective.