Stillness

Navigating Recovery and Reflections on the Journey

This month, I unintentionally shifted Armonía to a bimonthly schedule, more as a happenstance than a deliberate choice. Taking a break while nursing my persistent foot sprain, contemplating time, and gearing up for the upcoming year led me to step back from sharing my life through the newsletter.

At Sunset by Solomiya Zelenska

During this break, I've come to appreciate how writing serves as a gentle way to capture moments that tend to slip away in the midst of fast-paced days. The past few months hurried by, and now, revisiting my entries has become my main way of recalling certain memories.

I remember being thrilled about the start of autumn, looking forward to the brisk air that tickled my nose and the sky painted with beautiful shades of blue as the leaves changed. I anticipated catching the first hints of winter, with the scent of warm apple cider and cloves wafting through the quiet hallways of my home, all while enjoying Hallmark movies on my screen. I was eager to fully embrace the beauty of autumn and its lingering essence. But in the blink of an eye, here we are today, just 29 days away from Christmas.

I feel like I've been letting time slip away, postponing tasks and allowing things to unfold naturally. However, the pace at which I find myself doesn't quite match the pace I had envisioned. It's evident to me that this sprain, which I hadn't expected to take 4-6 weeks to fully heal before I could resume walking, is the main, if not the only, factor causing this deviation.

In the past thirty days, my world has condensed to a bed wrapped in a comforter, carrying the aroma of burnt maple and ginger. This scent lingers due to my daily breakfast routine—oatmeal with peanut butter, maple syrup, banana slices—sometimes accompanied by the occasional mishap of spilling ginger tea every other day. Until a week ago, my mode of movement involved hopping around the house on my left foot, unintentionally putting strain on my ankle and often causing spills.

Oddly, the awareness of my limitations has kindled a stronger desire to overcome them. If not for the sprained foot, I might have stuck to a more minimalistic approach anyways, spending the past 30 days in bed, enjoying Netflix shows, and keeping snacks close to avoid venturing beyond my room. However, the injury has transformed the once comforting confines of my room into something stifling, and a newfound urge to explore the world around me has taken hold.

Suddenly, life after recovery, especially in 2024, appears entirely different. It's brimming with weekend getaways, international travels, and impromptu adventures. Invitations from friends to explore Puerto Rico, Italy, and Mexico have surfaced, and despite the usual financial caution, I'm almost certain my response to each trip will be a resounding "yes." My online shopping carts are filled with clothes, and my mind is flooded with visions of elegant dinners, cozy movie dates, and thrilling hiking trips.

I find myself frustrated with the fact that my inherent allure lies in anonymity, thriving in situations where I can blend into the background, acting as a silent observer. There's a certain charm in being a wallflower, finding solace in a quiet cafe where I can absorb the small moments of someone else's day, all while soft rock melodies provide a soothing backdrop. Yet, at this moment, it doesn't feel like enough.

While the sprain stands out as one of the most annoying experiences of this year, it's interesting because I haven't really complained about it. No tears, no screams, no stress, and strangely, no questioning of why it happened. I never delved deep into it, never assigned blame to anything or anyone, and never harbored anger despite the recovery time stretching to a month and a half.

I found myself with a foot sprain, and that was it—I accepted it without resistance. This realization tells me something significant—maybe it was meant to happen. Not the injury, but the pause caused by the injury. It's as if the universe hit the pause button, urging me to reflect and redirect.

For those who have been with me for a while, it's no secret that dealing with minor inconveniences has never been my strong suit. However, while I had been going out and savoring life to some extent before the injury, I also acknowledged how the ongoing overseas crisis had cast a subtle shadow on my everyday pleasures. There was a sense of guilt in simply living my life, moments where the weight of the world's challenges pressed down. The act of enjoying simple pleasures seemed almost inappropriate against the backdrop of global uncertainties.

As I mentioned earlier, if I hadn't endured the sprain, most of my days probably would have been spent indoors, with minimal interaction with friends and family. Given the nature of my work, the holiday season tends to be exceptionally stressful, and the absence of the foot injury might have left me feeling drained, on the verge of burnout. Yet, with this sprain, each day brings forth newfound urges—desires that hadn't surfaced before.

In this time of stillness, I feel like I've grasped the true purpose behind the pause, even if I can't articulate it precisely. While I would have preferred to learn this lesson in the comfort of a shorter recovery time, I am genuinely happy that it happened.

Life often finds us navigating on autopilot, and when unexpected challenges arise, they serve as wake-up calls. This could have been an immensely challenging moment for me because, in a sense, I've lost a significant degree of my independence during this time. However, I've managed to remain resilient mentally.

Anyways, I hope that you've all been taking care of yourselves and wish you a beautiful week. I'd say that I have a week full of plans, but as I enter week 5 of the 6-week "don't walk" chapter of the recovery, I'll still be in this bed—making less of a mess and maybe complaining a bit less too. The journey to full recovery has been a slow but steady one, and I'm learning to appreciate the small victories along the way. Here's to a week of healing, both for me and for all of you.

Until next time, take care and stay well.

Best,

S