Newsletter Archive No. 01 - In my kittens and crutches era

I’m in my kittens and crutches era.

You might be wondering what kittens have to do with crutches. The short version is that my cat went into labor the night before I had ankle surgery, and I welcomed two kittens and two crutches into my life simultaneously. The long version of how this all happened  is quite a story in itself and maybe I’ll tell you someday. Right now I want you to join me  on another journey.

Going into my surgery I had an idea of how it would go, and a plan for how I was going to heal and get back on my feet (literally) in record time. It was a great attempt on my part to try and maintain control of a situation that was completely out of my hands.

I spent the next two weeks in bed and due to the layout of my house, couldn’t leave my bedroom even if I’d wanted to. That meant I couldn’t take Cauchy on her walks, and I couldn’t even get myself a glass of water. I had to ask someone to stay with me. Asking for help for even the tiniest of things pained me. I felt like a burden and completely useless. I had brand new kittens that I couldn’t see or take care of. Not only could I not be a caretaker, but I was the one who needed looking after. I had been stripped of my independence and autonomy.

It was as if the universe placed me in a perfectly designed hell that brought all of my deepest unhealed wounds to the surface. 

I felt like life was passing me by while I was stuck in bed counting down the hours until it was time to start a new day. I had nothing to look forward to other than my post op appointment in two weeks. I wanted so desperately to be free, but no amount of pushing or willing could change the fact that my body needed time to heal.

So I surrendered. 

I stopped trying to do too much and embraced my newfound slower pace. I stopped apologizing any time I had to ask for food or water. I let someone else take care of Cauchy. I tried to just let my body do its thing. I spent time dreaming of my cast coming off and all the things I would do. I decided my post op appointment would be the solution to all my problems. It wasn’t. When the nurse took my cast off, my ankle felt vulnerable and exposed like a crab without its shell. I immediately wished I could go back to just being in bed with my ankle protected. I didn’t feel ready to take the next step, but I had to keep going anyway.  

Healing whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual is not a linear path. It’s more like a spiral. (I’ve heard this more times than I can count, but I think I’m only now understanding what it means.) 

You may revisit familiar themes or wounds, but you never go backward. You can’t really, because you’re always collecting new perspectives and uncovering new bits of your inner wisdom. 

“

WITHIN YOURSELF IS A STILLNESS, A SANCTUARY TO WHICH YOU CAN RETREAT AT ANY TIME AND BE YOURSELF.

HERMAN HESS

So here I am in the middle of this particular healing voyage, what I’m calling my kittens and crutches era.

The kittens are starting to take their first steps. I’m amazed at how they're able to follow their instincts so easily. I’ve noticed that they don’t push too hard. They test their strength, taking a few steps before toppling over and deciding they need a nap. They always honor what their little bodies need.

I’m not unlike the kittens right now. Some days I’ll wake up and feel good enough to test out the strength of my ankle, walking around the block with my crutches. Then others, my ankle will be sore and my body craves being horizontal. It’s an ebb and flow kind of like the tide flowing in and out. The kittens and I are getting stronger every day even if it doesn’t feel like it.

I know that soon this time will be a distant memory, and walking will be something I take for granted again.

What I hope to take from this time is that there’s power in slowing down.

I want to remember what it feels like to fully trust my body to guide me and that like the kittens we also carry everything we need with us.

All that wisdom we search for outside ourselves is waiting for us in the stillness, in the quiet. All it asks of us is that we are courageous enough to listen. 

Want to receive more stories like this straight to your inbox? Sign up for my semi-regular newsletter.

Originally published on May 14, 2024.