My department is going to a baseball game. The woman planning the game looked at me and said, “You’re going, right? You didn’t go last year.” I mumbled something about having to check schedules and did not commit to going. I spent a lot of time surfing their website, trying to figure out if I could navigate around there and how. Didn’t get any answers.
A few hours later, I realized the compliment my coworker had given me. She knows about my mobility issues, she sees my walker and cane, and she didn’t even consider that I might have a problem getting around. She’s been to a lot of games at that ballpark, she’s seen me moving around for a few years, and she didn’t see an issue. I started feeling good about it.
Until. Until the knot came up in my chest. Until all the thoughts started running through my head. Until I pictured myself, tripping and falling. Until I pictured myself using my cane so I could navigate inside the stadium, yet wearing myself out trying to get in or out of there.
A little voice inside of my head reminded me that the game is two months away. I could exercise regularly. I could get my focus back. I could get better control of my balance. Last year, I improved drastically in a month by pushing myself, convinced that I could get better if I just worked hard enough. And even though I’m in a better physical spot now than I was when I started inpatient rehab last year, I’ve got to get myself in a better mental state.
All I could do was think about skipping my exercise today. And the other times I’ve skipped exercise. And how I’ve slipped since I haven’t kept the focus, haven’t kept up the commitment. Why would a baseball game be enough incentive for me to get back on track? I have so many good reasons right in front of me every day – my family, my friends, my own face in the mirror. If that hasn’t tipped the scale, why would this?
And why, after making such major progress last year, have I left myself slip back? I was confident, smiling, laughing, making progress. Where did that me go?
