Regression Analysis

So, seven LONG, LONG, weeks ago I went dancing on a Tuesday night like I have been doing for about the last six months.  Second song in, I did a normal, regular, even, correct rock step.  However, my right calf had other plans and snapped like a rubberband.  I heard the pop in my head despite the extraordinarily loud music.   In the split second it took for the sound and the pain to correlate, panic had a chance to settle in.....I was on crutches the next day and restricted to "non-weight bearing" activity.  Which means, sit on your ass, dummy, or it will never get better. 

Over the course of the next few days, I found myself beginning to be stuck in my own head more than I had been for quite a while.  I was crying, again.  I wasn't sleeping, again.  I had no motivation.  I was spiral-ing, as I call it, in my head.  I was questioning everything.  I began doubting again.  I was asking why, again. 

I could see why it was happening- my outlet for stress and emotional detox were gone.  I spent at least 45 minutes a day communing with my ipod, pavement and the heavens for the last year- it was my 'drug' for coping, clearing my head and generally making me into a whole human being and I couldn't do it, indefinitely.   I tried little things around the house to replicate the cleansing nature of my daily ritual, to no avail.  My leg would just not get better at the rate of which I was requesting...

No dancing. No walking. No sweating. No sleeping. Lots of crying.  Lots of steps backwards.  Regression. Almost like an out of body experience- I sensed what was happening and I knew exactly why, I was screaming on the inside to stop but it didn't. No sleeping. More crying. No movement.  Staring.  Like the color was drained from my life.  More time in my head.  More pressure on myself to fix, well, everything.  No matter how hard I tried, I fell further into the cold, cavernous abyss.

An extended stay by he who shall remain nameless, in my house, with me in it, did NOT help matters either.  BAD IDEA. Obviously, I was not thinking clearly to agree to such a thing.  Knocked me backwards about, oh, I don't know, about eight trillion steps.  I found out that I have been competing, inadvertently, for ex of the century, in the Land of MakeBelieve.  I want the crown, scepter and title apparently. More crying.  More weird dreams.  Restlessness. Regression.

I have been analyzing all of this regression, knowing full well why it's happened, but wondering....
Is this a necessary part of the grieving process? (ummm, yes.) 
Was this an Oprah "listen to the whisper before it turns into a smack in the back of the head" moment? (ummm, yes.)
Am I suppose to go backwards before I can truly move forward? (ummm, yah, maybe a little bit.)

Have I been on ' emotional crutches' or using exercise band-aids instead of dealing with pain of these horrible losses in my life for the past year?  Should I be worried that I am damaged goods? 

That's when I said nope to those last two questions and told myself to knock it off.

Patience, young grasshopper, patience.  This whole thing is a metaphor for patience.  Wait it out.  Your leg will heal.  Give it time. Quit panicking.  Grieve. There is no quick fix for your leg or your heart.  Patience.  Deep breath and just wait. A reminder to let go and let God.  You've been in the eye of the hurricane and now you must face the remainder of the storm.  Time heals.  You had to rest and gain the strength you need to find your way out.  You will make it through.  You'll be better than you were before. Stronger. Wiser. Leaner. Faster. Happier. 

Dance-ier :)

Tiff