It Comes In Waves

On healing in time.

When I was nine my sister fell off a horse in our back pasture and broke her wrist. Once she finally made it back to the house, my mom quickly carted us both to Urgent Care where a doctor examined her and proceeded to set her bones right then and there — which, if you’ve never watched a bone popped back into place, is a rather traumatic experience for all parties involved (some more than others of course). Not having a medical degree a la Doogie Howser, it looked — and sounded — like he had to crack her bones all over again in order to declare her on the road to recovery, and despite my mom’s reassurance, I couldn’t fathom how he could actually be helping her.

A few months later, I fractured my arm playing softball, but with the memory of my sister’s teary face (and the snap of her bones) still fresh in my mind, it took me another 36 hours to admit to my parents just how much pain I was really feeling. I pretended, for as long as I could bear, that I was just fine, hiding with my crooked arm in the bathtub until the water grew cold — anything other than submit to the kind of acute suffering I had witnessed firsthand.

In the end, once my mom and dad finally had enough of my trembling lower lip and forced me into the car to go to the hospital, the doctors determined my break was too severe to set it while I was awake (or my Oscar-worthy meltdown in my pediatrician’s office convinced them I probably needed sedation). So they put me under anesthesia, leaving me blissfully unaware of everything they had to do in order to put me back together again.

I woke up to an ugly white cast stretching from knuckles to armpit. The pain however — both real and imagined — remained as a dull, persistent throb that took months before dissolving into nothingness.

Le mood

When you’re trying to heal, everyone likes to remind you, “don’t worry, you’ll be okay, just wait.” And even if (deep down) you know that what they’re saying is true, the concept still feels as foreign as the back of your own head — everyone can see it but you.

The lesson we must learn, however reluctantly, is that in life there is no going to sleep while a team of professionals tend to your wounds, leaving you bruised perhaps, but no longer broken. Whether it’s the things around you that are crumbling, or certain fragile parts of yourself, time is both your greatest enemy and only defense. Just as you cannot rush a broken bone to repair itself, there is no skipping the shockwaves of grief, or sorrow, or disappointment, even for as insurmountable as they feel. Instead, we must bear the brunt of whatever suffering has come our way in real time before facing the omnipresent ache of recovery.

Eventually though, much to your surprise, you lift your head and an hour has passed. Then two. The seconds tick by just as steadily as before, no matter how implausible it may seem. The hours stretch to days and the moments become memories, raw but increasingly distant.

You practice patience. You ask for help. You sit is the discomfort even when it takes your breath away, because you know that while parts of yourself will never be quite the same, the scar tissue left behind will be stronger, less breakable. In a new, remarkable, still unknowable way, you will be whole again.

For all the others healing, broken, or somewhere in between, I raise a glass of #anxietybeer to you. Let’s take this one day at a time, together.

retail<therapy

1. Bell’s Brewing Light Hearted Ale: It’s officially summer, which means one of my all time favorite beers and brew houses releases a lighter, more hot weather-friendly sister beer. Crisp, lightly hoppy, and utterly delicious, this 3.7% ABV beer is the ideal summer beverage when you’re sitting on a stoop with friends or hanging out at your local bar’s backyard. It can be tough to find the other nine months out of the year, so when I finally spot it at the bodega, you can bet I’m carrying a 12-pack home under my arm to celebrate.

2. Joanna Czech Facial Massager: Is this face roller ridiculously pricey? In my opinion, yes, sort of. But I’m also a huge proponent of facial massage and I’d rather invest in a tool that will last for literal years, rather than buying a cheaper version off some billionaire’s big box retailer. Joanna Czech is a legendary esthetician and I’ll gladly spend five minutes in the morning rolling out my puffy, tired face with this bad boy until my cheekbones resemble chiseled granite. Bonus points if you pop it in the fridge between making coffee and taking a shower, then rolling out your face for some extra de-puffing action.

3. The Nue Co. Forest Lungs: I switch out my fragrances depending on both the season and my mood, but this scent in particular comes in clutch on a particularly hard days. It’s touted as a “functional fragrance” for decreasing stress, and while aromacology might seem like a woo woo wellness practice, scent has been used for thousands of years to set and/or influence a mood. The brand has some seriously fascinating clinical studies to back up the claims — plus it just smells really really good. Woody with hints of vetiver, pine, and patchouli, it’s the next best thing to a calming walk through the forest.

Cheers,

xxHB