An Unforgiving Teacher

Injuries suck. I mean, they really suck.

You're going full-speed, doing everything, making things happen, on top of the world, nothing can stop you. And then you get a stupid injury. It hurts like all hell, but you think, "Hey, nothing can stop me! Why should this stupid injury stop me?" And then you make it worse. And, stubbornly, you insist again on your invincibility. Until your spinal cord snaps and you're paralyzed for life.

I'm stubborn. I don't let anything stand in my way. Ever. You'd have better luck convincing a brick wall to tango. So when I got my most inhibiting injury ever, my initial instinct was, "To hell with being injured. My spine doesn't want to move? I'll make it move!" Or better yet, "Doctors? Who needs 'em! All I got to do is toughen up, and I'll be fine." Thankfully, however, logic has been winning out mostly. Logic has a pretty good argument: "Not moving around much right now sucks. A lot. I know. But if you keep moving around, trying to be unstoppable, you are going to be permanently injured. Or dead. DEAD. DO YOU WANT TO DIE?? No? Well, rest up, and you'll be good as new soon. With over 9000 toughness points for overcoming your injury. So over 9000 or DEATH? Which will it be?"

Logic has learned how to appeal to the illogical: hyperbole. I've been enduring the psychological misery of not being able to do all the things I want with logic's ridiculous reasoning. Don't tell the illogical, but this isn't a video game; toughness isn't measured numerically. Whatever points I think I'm winning by recovering from an injury don't really exist. Or, at least, no one else cares about them. Even I don't.

What I care about is being able to go full-speed, do everything, make things happen, on top of the world, nothing can stop me again. As soon as possible. In one week, a bunch of nervous teenagers will all one by one stand up on a stage, speak for less than a minute, and desperately hope they managed to somehow blow me away in such a short time frame. Little do they know, I'm just as nervous. Casting is the most terrifying part of production. But then production will begin. Little old injured me will need to be ready for the physical demands.

Did you know directing is physically demanding? Sure, it can be done from a chair, but that's not the kind of director I want to be. I want to be that director the cast always remembers for all the passion and positive energy she put into the production every single day, come rain, sleet, snow, or hail. I want to be that director that makes everyone in the production say, "Hey, this is fun!" I want to be that director who isn't the boss, but the role model. I want to be that director whose love for everyone involved in the production is obvious. I want to be that director who fits John Quincy Adams' definition of a leader: "If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader." I want to inspire.

I hate being less than 100% right now, but I know the rest right now is necessary. I have to let my body heal so that I may be around as long as I can to learn how to become the person I dream of being. I have to learn patience, and I have to learn to take care of myself before I can be worthy of taking care of others.

Injuries suck, but they're one of those "either you learn, or you die" situations. Either you learn to swallow your pride and listen to your body's needs, or you run your body straight into the ground and destroy yourself. Injuries are unforgiving teachers.