Betrayed!

Betrayal.  We've all been there.  Heck, even Jesus had His Judas.

And you know what happens when you feel betrayed... you start to think of every single circumstance in which you were let down or led astray or betrayed by the betrayer, and spend a bit of time in thoughts of revenge and hopelessness and anger and grief.  Once you have gone through all of that, you accept it and walk away.

Except, you can't really walk away when it is your body that keeps betraying you.

I received objective evidence recently that my back is messed up six ways from Sunday and I was so angry that if my spine had been a person, I would have punched its throat. Once I got the Big List of Things Amy Can No Longer Do, I threw my hands in the air and howled.  When I got the news that, yes, Amy, there is a surgery in your near future, I sat on my butt and cried.

It. Is. Not. Fair.

While wallowing in my anger, I accusingly brought up every single way my body has betrayed me over the years by not living up to my QUITE reasonable expectations.  As always when we argue, my body just clammed up and got all passive aggressive and obstinately remained silent -and occasionally shot pain like a lightning bolt down my legs to remind me I'm not in charge all that completely.

Grrrrr.  Stupid spine.

I am sure if my body could talk in a language besides pain and pleasure it would have a few things to say about how I can sometimes treat it -ignore it, discount it, ask too much of it, yell at it, give it too little to go on- and then expect it to be in perfect form to meet my needs/wants/whatever. My body might even use the word, "betrayal." Unlike my brain, my body forgives quickly and tries its hardest.

Perspective is a blessing and a curse.

I've been warned not to go too far down the road of anger and resentment on this one. An inevitable effect of being human is that everything has a time and a season and that moving through means moving on -be glad I could do this stuff at one time, and see what new thing comes as a result of being forced to move on. Figure what tattoo I will want over the scar.

I am quite blessed to know a gifted spine surgeon I grew up with and who loves me ('cause, you know, he is my brother) who has helped me understand what is going on and how to pick a good surgeon locally because it is pretty scary to me.

I am quite blessed to have a trainer who is busy thinking of the stuff I CAN do, which is good because for a bit all I could see is what I can't do.

I am quite blessed to have excellent health insurance and sick day benefits and an understanding boss, so my job and financial security are not in jeopardy.

I am blessed to live in a small city that has loads of physical therapists to choose from.

Oh, yeah, that trust thing again.  Trust that no matter what happens, God will take care of me, and the future is always brighter than the present.

I guess that lesson will keep coming around until I learn it.