~ fear of letting go ~

The moment of truth had finally come. Sitting in my surgeon's office in November 2016 after five knee surgeries - the latest one done a year earlier - my heart beating so fast it could come out of my chest at any second, I felt extremely anxious and nervous, but most of all I felt fear. Fear of what he would say. Fear of what would come next. My hands were sitting and I felt so uncomfortable, the moment just before he started talking looking at my x-rays, my mom sitting next to me. It felt painful - not physically painful, but emotionally painful yes.

And then that moment came. The moment I had been dreading for the past almost four years. The moment I was told soccer and heptathlon weren't options for me anymore. Ever. Neither was any other team sport that could involve any sort of twisting or pivoting of the knee. My world crumbled in front of my eyes. All the work I had done to eventually make a comeback to the two sports I loved was for nothing. I was devastated. That meant there would be no comeback. That I hadn't been working hard enough. That my knee was a piece of shit that could never get back to the things I once loved so very much. How could that happen? How could I be so unlucky I had to let go of such big parts of my life at the age of 19? Well, actually I had to let go of them already at 15, but I never wanted to believe in the comeback for as long as I could, because after all, comebacks are possible.

I didn't know how to be or what to say. What to do. I felt like everything I had was taken away from me - all at the same time. And it felt so unfair. Where would I ever find motivation to keep working hard after those news? My doctor told I'm lucky I'm walking after my injury and he told me that he cannot believe I'm still running. Sure, it did feel like I had done something right. But what had I not done enough to get back to soccer or track&field? It was something I couldn't understand. Or didn't want to understand.

The fear of letting go. It has the power over you. It wraps you around a dreaded network of feelings that you cannot get rid of. I feared of having to let go since my injury in January 2013, and in November 2016, I still was not ready to hear I have to let go. It is such a powerful statement, it makes you panic and being anxious. But when the actual moment of letting go came I didn't know what I was feeling anymore. My mind was empty and blank. And for some time after I had to stop thinking about getting back to soccer or track&field I felt sick just seeing or thinking about them. I couldn't watch soccer on TV and coaching track&field brought me back memories that turned into painful ones. I was a become a worse coach because I couldn't separate my own career with the career of my own athletes, but it was hard and painful and those happy, good memories of those two sports became more of a burden than a great thing to look back at.

I little over a year later things are different. Sure, soccer and track&field aren't part of my sport life in any way now, but the fear of letting go has turned into an appreciation toward the past, what I achieved and what I experienced for so many years with so many amazing people. The memories make me happy and looking back at them isn't all that painful anymore. I can watch soccer again. But, there will always be a part of me that will be sad and anxious that two of the greatest sports that gave me so much also took away from me. That after my injury I never got the chance to show myself and the world that there is a possibility of a great comeback. I never really got to say goodbye, you know. To say thank you for what you've given but it is time to move on. I never got that. All I got was a sudden, very tragic accident that led to both getting taken away from me without any sort of warning whatsoever. And that's what hurts about it the most. That's what made the fear of letting go soooo big. Because having to let go of something you are not ready to let go is scary and sad and unfair and just wrong. But life is not always what we want it to be or what we hope for. Adapting to the sadness and bouncing back doing new things is what counts.

I have found joy and happiness from other things. When I thought all I had was taken away I had to look myself in the mirror and tell myself there were still plenty of things in the world to try and do. And that's what I tell myself every time I miss my sports. I let the sadness get to me but I don't let it overwhelm me. The sadness is just enough to get me look at the memories with a little smile on my face. Those memories will always last no matter what even if new things come on my way. And life is pretty good, after all. Because it has so much to offer. We just gotta find those opportunities and enjoy them as much as we can. I don't get scared of having to let go anymore because I know now what it is. And even if it is hard and painful, it teaches us something - every time.

Year 2018 is just around the corner and I cannot wait for what it has to offer. January 2018 will also mean the 5-year anniversary of my knee injury. After all these years, it isn't a day of fear and sadness anymore, but rather a day to celebrate how far I've come and how much I can still do despite everything that I have had to go through. ♡

RACE DAY

Countless hours of rehab. A countless amount of frustration and tears. An unbelievable number of physio and doctor appointments. An overwhelming amount of ups & downs. That's what my life's been like since my latest reconstruction surgery done in November 2015.

Overcoming obstacles. Facing fear. Exceeding my own expectations. That's what today's post is about.

On June 10th, 2017 I ran my first race since my fifth surgery. A half marathon. 21,1 kilometers to be exact. Those 21,1km were hell, to be honest. I'm not going to lie, I wanted to quit after 6km, and then after 10km and then at 15km. I don't know what kept me going. Because my body was tired. My leg hurt. My feet were on fire. But I didn't quit. And I'm proud I didn't.

Just starting the race was a small miracle. The day after my surgery I told my physio that if I ever ran again I would do this half marathon. But it was easier said than done. My surgeon said before the surgery I'd be lucky to be able to walk normally after the operation. After the operation he said there was no guarantee I'd ever get back to running. Those words are not something you want to hear when you're 18 and full of energy and willingness to do all sorts and absolutely love sports. Despite the little desperation after the surgery it wasn't the time to cry over it. I decided right there not even 12 hours after the procedure that one day I would run again. Not sure when but one day.

And so started a long journey first back to put weight on the leg, then back to walking and walking normally, then jogging and later on running. I took my first running steps somewhere middle April 2016, that is only 5 months after my fifth knee surgery. Not bad for someone who was never supposed to run again due to such bad damage in ligaments, tendons, nerves and bones. I guess it's not completely incorrect to believe in small miracles after all.

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I hadn't anything longer tha 15-16km after my surgery due to pain in the knee while running. Due tro instability of the knee joints and due to uncertainty. Of course there were other factors as well that affected my running (such as heart problems etc.) and it wasn't always all about the knee. If my knee was having a good day my heart wouldn't cooperate and running was almost impoossbile. If it was the other way round and the heart was doing good, then my knee was just total crap.

Running hasn't felt the same after the surgery, my knee gets heavy after some time and it starts affecting myt whole leg not long after that. So honestly I wasn't sure a half marathon was the best choice to make. But I had promised myself and others I would do it, so there was no going back. I've never neen a quitter, this wasn't the time to start being one.

On the starting line, 5 minutes before the start I was nervous. I was overwhelmed to even be on the starting line. I was stressed whether my knee could take the stress or not. I was emotional as it was my first race since my surgery.
The run started. I wanted to prove to myself I could still get myself into competition and race mode, be fearless and not worry - just run. That's what I did. The first 5km was good, like I actually felt good, my knee was keeping up and my heart wasn't beating like crazy. But after the 5km mark, I faced mny worst fear. I started feeling pain in my knee, my heart rate went up way too fast and my body was tired, exhausted. I wanted to quit. I had to pull myself together not to cry. It was terrible. I crossed the 10km line. It felt like forever. I wanted to give up again. The running felt absolutely horrible, my legs didn't cooperate with me. I don't know what kind of mental strength helped me through it, but I did. I crossed the 15km line. Still 6km to go and I was so finished, so tired. But I just blindly trusted my will-power and kept running. At 20km I knew there was no chance in hell I was going to stop the run. I ran my fastest 1,1km right there, gave it all I had left in my body and probably peed in my pants during the last 100 meters ;D But that's okay. I FINISHED. I CAN SAY I'M A HALF MARATHON FINISHER HAVING HAD A TOTALLY DESTROYED KNEE TWICE.

Many people didn't believe I could run again after such injuries than mine. Many people lost trust in the ability of the knee to recuperate to a certain level. Many people said I should prepare myself to the worst and not expect anything else than the least. But I wanted to prove those people wrong, and I did.
Many people think my knee is fully recovered and functional again. They think all is good and I just quit track&field and soccer because I didn't want to go back to them anymore. The truth is, that's far from being the truth. My knee is far from being recovered, it will never ever be "normal" and "good" again. My knee will most probably keep getting worse as I use it and the already twice replaced spare ligaments/tendons/nerves will wear out at some point. More than anything I would want to play soccer again and do heptathlon again but the decision is no longer in my hands and doing them is impossible unless I want an artificial knee or a total knee replacement in the next year or so....

The feeling crossing the finish line was emotional - very emotional. I didn't cry but it was close. My mom and sister were cheering for me about 200m before the finish and it boosted me up. The totaly crappy feeling during the race was forgotten and I enjoyed it after all, after all the obstacles, after all the pain and all the frustration during the race. I was tired and exhausted but it was a happy kind of tiredness. I HAD DONE IT. I didn't break my promise. I don't think anyone would've been mad at me for not running it but it meant the world to me. I wanted to prove to myself but also proved to the people who've watched me closely that I'm not a zero. I'm still in love with sports and not just a couch potato after all.

I'm not very often proud of myself. But after the race I was proud. The time didn't satisfy me (as many things don't when it comes to sports...) but that's not what I was proud of. I was proud of the journey I've gone through. I'm proud of the work I've done. I have beat myself to hell some days when I don't get myself to run or train but that day I got myself to run 21,1km despite a lot of challenges. It was a big thing for me. I didn't win the race, but I didn't have to. I won myself and that's what counts.








I know the time will come that one day my knee will be in such bad shape I will need the total knee replacement done. But that day isn't today. So I'm enjoying today as it is. My today isn't the same it was before but that is okay. I can't live the present if I always keep stressing out about the future and my knee's contidion. Let future come when it comes and what comes with it just come. I have faced so many obstacles that I'm not letting them take me down no matter what the future holds. I will keep doing the things I can as long as I can to be able to say later that I lived life to the fullest.
And as long as I can run I will push hard to get my knee stronger.

just a matter of time

20.1.2013. Four years. 1462 days.

Not a day passes by without mee seeing the outcome of my knee injury. Today marks the 4-year-anniversary of my knee accident and it hasn't gotten that much easier to face that day. Flashbacks come to my mind. Nightmares. Little reminders like that. 

Life has been different every day after that injury and I would lie if I said I don't miss my earlier life. I'm ready to let out something that I haven't been able to share with most people. The day I got injured I literally wanted to die. Not because I was mad that it happened to me, not because I thought it was unfair. But because I was in so much pain. Dying at that point felt to me like the easier option and honestly, it probably would have been. Having a detached knee with no function, bad dislocation, no ligaments, ruptured tendons and veins, bone tissue and bone damages and massive blood flood, I can tell you even blinking an eye hurt. Hurt like hell. I do describe myself as a tough person both mentally and physically, being able to face injuries without really complaining. But that day, it was too much even for me. 

Waking up today made me think of how far I've come from that day. For most people it might seem like not much as I am still unable to do certain things but for others it's been a long, even massive, road. Both my doctor and my physio are mind-blown about the fact that I am able to job, let alone run, jump, coach amongst other things. Believe it or not, a year ago, after my big reconstruction surgery, it wasn't sure whether I'd be able to walk again. Some of you might be laughing behind the screen but it's no joke for me - it's reality. 

4 years ago I was close to lose my leg from below the knee due to massive vein and nerve damage but here I am, standing on my own to feet still. It was just a matter of time until my blood flow would stop in my leg. And here comes my first big lesson I've learned: I don't take the capability to walk or run for granted anymore. 

The second big lesson I've noticed: Muscle loss takes forever to come back!!!! Guys, remember, you lose muscle so fast but you gain it back so slow. Your leg just shrinks in no time and man what a trouble it is to get even have of the muscles back. But the work is worth doing, honestly! 

Going through rough hopsital patches, sleeping like crap, being sleep-deprived, going through surgery, dealing with the pain and trying to cope without too many painkillers..... Just some of the reasons that made me become very unsociable all of a sudden. I always saw my friends doing sporst, it came naturally without the need of putting too much effort trying to find suitable times. I would just see my friends everyday first at school and then at practice. But after my knee surgery I was depressed, I wanted to be alone, I didnät want anyone see me in the state I was currently in. I was miserable and in pain and I was stuck inside four walls for most of the days. So really, I'm sorry for all my friends who had a grumpy and sad Irene for many many months following the injury. 

As sport was pretty much my entire life before the injury, my life felt pretty empty afterwards. That is wht the third big lesson for me was: Put your effort, focus and energy on something you can still have an affect on. That something for me was school. It was a big year for me with tons of exams and I had to cope with those doing home-school for over two months. Jeez, that taught me some self-discipline. When you alone are responsible for your school work, you have to put so much more effort into it than when you're at school having a teacher do half of the work. But I'm glad I had to go through home-school because it showed me the requirements good results require. 

I had a hard time understanding and accepting the fact that after my knee injury people would see me suffer. The moment I got injured I felt embarrassed, because of me the game had to be stopped. I felt ashamed because people saw me crying my eyes out and wishing to be dead. I was confused because I didn't know how to describe the pain when everyone was asking it. I wanted to crawl under the ground (or die) because I didn't want to face other people staring at me. I hated it. Only recently I've realized pain is okay sometimes. To be honest, I still do everything in my power to hide it from everyone and it's mostly working but even I do have bad days where nothing goes right. But it's okay. We are allowed to cry. We're allowed to be in pain and feel bad. 

Unfair, I thought when I heard how severe the injury was. Why was I supposed to bear this when so few people do? And it wasn't even me who had caused the accident... Life is unfair sometimes, it is unpredictable and this could've happened to anyone else instead. Quite honestly I'm happy no one else did. Feel lucky. You don't have a burden to carry for the rest of your life. But I wouldn't have wanted to see anyone get hurt like this. Not in this way because this is a life-changing happening. 

What I never really realized was why did the girl who hurt me never apologize? After all, because of her I will be forever unable to play soccer and I will have restrictions for the rest of my life. All I had really wanted was three words: I am sorry. But she never did. I'm not balming her. But because she never apologized for years I've seen this injury as my fault. Blaming everything that happened on myself. So self-destructive and self-harming, but that is what I did. Bamed myself. Put myself down. Just because the one girl who was involved in the accident the most couldn't open her mouth and say she was sorry. I know that 99/100 cases would end up just fine both players being totally healthy no issues but in this 1/100 cases she ruined my dreams and that's why I would've needed those three words. 

Today,

1462 days,

35 088 hours,

2 105 280 minutes and

126 316 800 seconds 

later, I am a 19-year-old girl, who lost her teenage years to a knee injury. An injury that required self-discipline, commitment, focus, leadership, independent initiative, independency, self-confidence and a mature view on facts of life.

 It did take away my teenage years as I wasn't able to live freely, without worrying, seeing my friends and doing what I loved. I was pushed to a limit where I was responsible for everything I did, everything I was faced with. It's been a rough time, really rough time but it's also been a road that has taught me hugely about my life and the society I live in.

There's really no one else who can do the work for me and that is why where I am today reflects the work and commitment I've put into this injury and its rehabilitation. I have been helped by my family who's been by my side this whole time, my physios and my surgeons, my friends and other significant people along the way - thank you for all of you ❤

Even though I still wish I could go back in time I'm happy with what I've got now. It's a lot less than what I have before but at the same time it's also so much more than what I had before. Without this injury, I probably never would've been faced some great volunteer work projects and a lot of other things.  Coaching has brought me a lot of new perspective into things and being rewarded "coach of the year" just shows me that my commitment, whether it was when I do sports or when I coach others do sports, is always and will remain in high standards.

Injuries have been occurring in my lifre a little too often I'd say, but now, four years after the biggest injury of my life, I am finally able to say this out loud:

"I'm grateful for what this injury has taught me, grateful for what I'm still able to do, thankful for the experiences I've been faced with due to my injury, and (almost) happy with the progress I've made" 

Although for a long time I did, I no longer see that I could've done a lot differently along my rehabilitation process. As a matter of fact, I think I've done even more, achieved the impossible. Coming from doctors being sorry that I might lose my leg and that I might never walk again to doctors saying how proud they are of what I have achieved warms my heart. 

My fight will continue, in all probability, for the rest of my life but I am eager to see what it will bring to me. If nothing else I know how strong I am now and that whatever life will throw at me, I'm ready to face it. I just hope the next four years will be a little easier than the past four years have been.  

 I'm glad I didn't think of death too long after my injury. It haunted me for a while being a mental burden but getting back to sports really helped me. It's okay to have bad thoughts sometimes as long as we can get rid of them and understand the true meaning behind those bad thoughts. I saw myself as a failure for a long time, but I no longer think that is what defines me.

 "I fight for my health everyday in ways most people don't understand. I'm not lazy. I'm a warrior."