There I was in the shower, completely exhausted. I’m not gonna make it I thought. I had zero energy left in me.
My arm is in a cast, and my cast is inside a waterproof cover for the shower. The cast is heavy, and my arm is just hanging there. I don’t have the energy to hold it against my belly. My good arm is also heavy. It’s tired and sore. It’s exhausted.
“Limb fatigue is a real thing“ Laura explained to me. She’s a PT, and was explaining to me that the arm I’m using is exhausted from using it so much.
I have limited range of motion. And it’s feeling like dead weight. It’s so sore I don’t even want to try to move it.
It’s been a few days and I need this shower. Since the cast has been on I’ve only had a few. While each one of those were welcomed and a relief, this one is not. I’m talking myself out of exiting the shower. I’m forcing myself to stand under the shower. I try to relax. Try to enjoy it, it’s a treat, I say. I think about a renowned meditation and awareness practice of allowing the water to wash away my stress and let it go down the drain. I don’t need my stress to go down the drain because I’m not feeling stress. What I’m feeling is exhaustion. I feel a century old, and as though not a minute of it has been spent asleep.
But I have slept. I’ve slept a lot. My body is healing.
I don’t want to but I make myself take soap to my skin. The soap feels like it’s 20 pounds heavy. I feel as though I’m pushing 5000 tons of machinery across a field. Usually I finish my showers with two minutes of cold to balance my nervous system and to draw my energy back in. I seriously consider skipping it. I just want out.
When I was done I just stood there. My head was hung low and I made absolutely no attempt. In a whisper I said to my mother “I can’t dry myself. You have to do it.”
She put my hair in the turban, and then she dried my body. We took the precautions of removing the cast cover and I returned to my bed.
I’m not weak. I just don’t have any strength.
And so I am reminded that I am mortal. I am reminded that our bodies get worn. Today, I am not independent. No matter what my calendar says, no matter what my responsibilities and commitments are, or what my agenda is, I must rest myself.
It takes great courage to be one with this process of being human, and not fight it. To see yourself so vulnerable, to feel yourself so vulnerable. It takes courage to be in your truth and to be in your reality. To be sober, and not numb. To accept fully what it’s like to be in your body. To surrender.
I promise you that when you go through the exercise of being in your courage, each time it gets easier and easier. Eventually the need to be courageous dwindles. Like breathing, it becomes something you can just do. You will even get to a point where you’ll notice how you respond, and that turns into inspiration. Then, you’re living as you’re meant to.
Lisa Karasek, Mind Body Spirit Guidance 
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