What kind of growth?
To a kid, growth means getting bigger, stronger and finally being allowed to stay up late. As of late, the word brings up mixed emotions. Praying for clean scans for years has taught me that growth is not always a good thing. Sure, we fear change but this was different. To a cancer survivor it means fighting to hold your breath steady. It means prayers and restless nights. It has taken actual personal growth, to remove some of the weight that word holds. The universe can bring the opportunity to grow in the wildest ways. It brings it right up to our face but asks us to walk across fire to get to it. Easier said than done.
Last week, the opportunity for growth showed it's face in a small yet powerful way. Since returning to work full time, I had the challenge of being on my prosthetic all day, while wearing business clothes that isn't the most comfortable or easiest to put on. Several customers I have never met have gasped as I walked up to greet them and with genuine concern and panic in their face, asked me "What happened to your leg? What is wrong with you?". Yes, this is a "leg story" kind of moment. I have worked HARD to be back at work full time and return to some sense of normalcy. It was like someone popped my birthday balloon. I sensed none of them meant any harm, they may have even felt a little regret as they walked away. Maybe they too were in a place where they were needing some personal growth. We both had something to learn now.
As the week crept on, I couldn't help but think "How should I be feeling about this?" I tried to script my emotional response. Here I was, the wound still fresh, Literally. I wasn't allowing myself to do what I actually needed to. Which was to feel a little hurt and annoyed and then move on. There will always be people who say what's on their mind without thinking, but this isn't a temporary situation for me. Unless they find a way to regrow limbs, this is the new me for good. This is where both growth and bitterness showed up to tempt me.
Friday afternoon came and one of the men who had asked what was wrong with me stepped into the office.> Instead of kicking him with my prosthesis, I strutted out of the office with my little limp, flipped my hair back and told him to have a great weekend, because I certainly planned to. And so I did!
This probably won't be the last time that I feel hurt by a strangers words. But now, growth means learning to love myself and all that I am enough to shake off the feeling and flip my hair back.
