Somehow, it's been 6 weeks since I had my shoulder surgery. This completely blows my mind because this was an event that was looming so completely over my head for almost a year and now we're here.
It's been a big week. I had my second post-op doctor's visit and my surgeon is very pleased with my progress and range of motion. The most exciting news is that I'm officially cleared to be out of my sling, and I was able to leave the hospital on Thursday slingless!
It's been a strange adjustment being out of the sling. On one hand, I'm not quite sure how I survived 6 weeks of hot Denver summer in it, and at the same time time, it feels like I just had my surgery a couple of days ago. I still have a number of restrictions on what I can and can't do with my arm, can't lift more than 5 pounds, and my arm can't go past shoulder height (cue the short, easy to style haircut).
I think the most interesting thing I've noticed is how symbolic the sling was for me.
When I go into a store now, people don't know that I've recently had surgery and that I'm still very stiff and sore. They can see my scars, sure, but they aren't quite as careful around me, and no one is asking what happened and wishing me a speedy recovery. And while it's never been about that, though it's been nice, it is really a powerful reminder that the majority of my pain (both physical and emotional) has been invisible for all my life.
I suffered for 9 years from a shoulder pain that we couldn't really figure out what the cause was. Multiple doctors, multiple opinions, and really no solid answers, until I met my current doctor. After a while, I started to really doubt myself, like if something was wrong with my shoulder, wouldn't it have been discovered already?
As I've mentioned before, I am SO thrilled that I listened to my gut and continued to advocate that something was wrong with my body. And yet, it was invisible for so long. People close to me believed me, but it was hard to express to others that I was in pain all the time, or that simple things were nearly impossible for me (carrying groceries, holding the poles on the subway...). And for the 6 weeks that I was in a sling, people noticed. They saw my shoulder pain. They acknowledged it. My sling made me injury visible.
I can't help but draw the parallels to my struggles with mental illness. When I was in treatment, my illnesses were more visible. Treatment acted as my sling, where people would check on me more and make sure I was doing okay. It was a little more apparent that I was struggling then, than other times where I was appearing "totally fine". It's really tough to live with chronic pain, mental illness, and any other kind of invisible struggle. It made me so aware of this through the last 6 weeks and makes me recognize just how important it is that we acknowledge the illnesses and injuries and pains that we can't see.
Just because you can't see it doesn't mean someone isn't in pain.
In honor of my 23rd birthday, I wanted to reflect on just how far I've come in the past year. At this time last year, I was in "recovery" but quickly heading into a relapse. While I'm still having to work hard on recovery, the changes are hard to deny and have been life-changing.
I've decided to create a list of 23 gifts (shoutout @leenahlovesherself for the idea!) that recovery has given me, for my birthday.
I am so proud of how far I've come in the past year, and I am so hopeful that 23 will be the best year yet. I think reflecting on your birthdays can prove to be so hopeful to see where you are are and where you want to be. I have a ways to go, but I know that choosing and maintaining recovery will make this year the best one yet. Thank you, recovery, for the greatest gifts I could have ever been given.
Hi, I'm Charlotte! I'm a 23 year old grad student living in NYC. I'm passionate about mental health, reality tv, and making my cat an Instagram star.