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		<title>Imperfect Perfection</title>
		<link>http://ellen5e.com/p/imperfect-perfection/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 05:18:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>ellen5e</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[HEALTH]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ellen5e.com/?p=515</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[...my value comes not from what I DO, or to what degree of perfection I perform, but from WHOSE I am. ]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a rel="attachment wp-att-516" href="http://ellen5e.com/p/imperfect-perfection/qv_report_card/"><img class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-516" title="qv_report_card" src="http://ellen5e.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/qv_report_card-150x150.jpg" alt="qv_report_card" width="125" height="125" /></a>You know what?  I am NOT perfect. Surprise!  Yet, one of my personal struggles is with the character defect of perfectionism. I could even go so far to say that it is a sin, but I don&#8217;t know that I chose so much to act this way as it is a natural bent that has plagued my Type A, constantly pushing for the best, way of doing things.</p>
<p>Either way I see it as both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand I can say that this perfectionism has given me the &#8220;eye&#8221; for detail. I can generally tell with a quick glance if something is amiss, awry or off-kilter. This especially comes in handy when I am rendering a drawing or painting that is realistic. It also gives those I work for the assurance that I am going to give great attention to the accuracy and detail of a job. I am by nature highly motivated, driven to do the best I can, and determined to see a task through to the end.</p>
<p>So what&#8217;s the downside? I am the most critical of my own work. It was so bad when I was younger that I couldn&#8217;t keep any of my own paintings because I would look at it and see something that was a bit off or could have been done better. As a runner, I would always strive to go further, go faster. As a daughter, wife or friend I would do everything to be the &#8220;best&#8221;.  Oh, I was what some would call an overachiever, a competitor that didn&#8217;t know when to quit. Why? Because, I felt that my best was NEVER good enough.</p>
<p>It was in college, working for the Department of Graphic Communications Chair (he was also a perfectionist) that I learned a bit of a trick in fighting this troubling trait. He told me, &#8220;If the client likes it, it is good enough.&#8221;  Never mind that you think it would be better this way, in these colors or whatever. If my job is to produce a piece that the client likes, then the moment he says &#8220;that&#8217;s good,&#8221; it IS good. Period.</p>
<p>Wow!  What a revelation. Just by proclaiming something good, it IS good. There really is such a thing as &#8220;Good Enough&#8221;.  What a concept.</p>
<p>As I am currently struggling with some physical challenges right now, I have been forced to look at the increased frustrations and disappointment associated with the realization that I simply cannot do what &#8220;normal&#8221; people can expect to do. Nor, even, what I could do myself in years previous. I am starting to have those thoughts of not measuring up. Maybe those who used to love me will tire of me and discard me as &#8220;a problem&#8221; or &#8220;broken&#8221; and unable to be &#8220;fixed&#8221;.</p>
<p>However, these are feelings that I cannot trust. These feelings would have me believe that I am what I do; that it is my performance that determines my worth. You know what I am learning? (Not that I have attained a full working degree of mastery here, yet).  I am learning that these thoughts based on feeling are untrustworthy. Lies!</p>
<p>My value really is not based on what I can or cannot do. It is not based on quotas of projects completed, grades, money earned or invested. It is not based on if my hair is styled just so, or if I am wearing the latest clothing fashion. My value is not even determined on if my husband or child is pleased with my cooking or even if they are angry with me.</p>
<p>No. None of that is the real basis of my value. What I believe to be true as I study my Bible (if only my feelings would grasp that truth more) is that my value comes not from what I DO, or to what degree of perfection I perform, but from WHOSE I am.</p>
<p>I believe wholeheartedly in the Truth of God&#8217;s Word which declares I am a child of God. He loved me even when I was at my all time, absolute, disgustingly worst. When I came to acknowledge my absolute inability to even approach anywhere near a degree of perfection when it came to dealing with such an awesome and Holy God, I all but melted away.</p>
<p>It was then, at my most imperfect, that God lifted my face to look into His. He invited my broken spirit to be mended by His Holy Spirit.  He let the love of Jesus Christ do the perfecting for me. WOW!!</p>
<p>Right now, as I struggle related to chronic pain, fatigue and even Foreign Accent Syndrome I must face the fact that these are major hurdles that are guaranteed to keep me from normal goals of excellence. In working with these difficulties  I am finding that nasty old bent toward perfectionism rearing it&#8217;s ugly head again. This time, thanks to God&#8217;s promises which sustain me, I am learning to say, &#8220;Yes. I am a failure. Yes, I have messed up. Yes, I cannot do this under my own power.&#8221;</p>
<p>These very thoughts that in the past were used to try to depress me to the point of being totally ineffective are now the very same thoughts that I can accept and answer. &#8220;Though each one of those accusations is true. All those imperfections are present in me&#8230;but..&#8217;I AM doing my best. And (here is the real gem)&#8230; GOD LOVES ME ANYWAY!&#8221;</p>
<p>This really is too wonderful for me to understand. It is not by denying my failures, or pretending they do not exist, that I find peace. Rather, it is by embracing the fact that it is despite my imperfections that I can enjoy the bliss of perfect love and acceptance of my Blessed Savior.  SELAH.</p>
<p>Do you know this peace too? It really is perfect.</p>
<h3  class="related_post_title">Related Posts</h3><ul class="related_post"><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/turning-the-page/" title="Turning the Page ">Turning the Page </a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/crashed-and-turned/" title="Crashed and Turned">Crashed and Turned</a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/fas-friends/" title="FAS Friends">FAS Friends</a></li></ul>]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Crashed and Turned</title>
		<link>http://ellen5e.com/p/crashed-and-turned/</link>
		<comments>http://ellen5e.com/p/crashed-and-turned/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 17 Sep 2009 23:05:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>ellen5e</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chronic Pain]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ellen5e.com/?p=474</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[September 17, 1987 is a special date on the calendar for me. You see, it was 22 years ago today that my life took a major hit. While driving our Kawasaki 550 motorcycle I was broadsided by the car of a young lady performing an illegal U-turn. My life as I had known it (had planned) would never be the same.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZCGov86CI6s/SNMZeXFItXI/AAAAAAAAAMY/0hc18I3kSeo/s1600-h/MotorcyleOuch.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247566000199087474" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZCGov86CI6s/SNMZeXFItXI/AAAAAAAAAMY/0hc18I3kSeo/s320/MotorcyleOuch.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Some of you will have already heard about this, but since today is the anniversary date of a major life-altering event, I decided to reblog it.<br />
September 17, 1987 is a special date on the calendar for me. You see, it was 22 years ago today that my life took a major hit. While driving our Kawasaki 550 motorcycle I was broadsided by the car of a young lady performing an illegal U-turn. My life as I had known it (had planned) would never be the same.</p>
<p>It was just before the impact and I was waiting for morning rush hour traffic to clear from one of the two major one-way streets located at the end of my commute to work in beautiful Santa Barbara, California. I knew that I had to wait a few moments more before the traffic cleared. So I took the opportunity to shoot up a praise to God. &#8220;What a gorgeous morning it is Father. There is not a single cloud in the sky.&#8221; Additionally I am going to be early for work, and I am excelling at my job.</p>
<p>Looking back on that moment now, I realize that was the last minute in which I had no chronic pain in my life. I really do forget what that felt like. Perhaps God answered me with &#8221; Oh sure, you think it&#8217;s beautiful and hunky dory now, but let&#8217;s just see what you think in a minute.&#8221; I believe that in Heaven, God was gathering the angels to watch what was going to happen next.</p>
<p>After crossing the intersection, I noticed that a car traveling in the opposite direction quickly pulled along the opposite curb as it going to park. But then it happened. The sudden impact broadsided me full force as the black bumper of the Civic instantly crushed my Left Ankle. I found myself startled (WHAT just happened), in great pain as my foot was hit by the car then pushed off the peg, and dragging along the pavement. On top of all that, my head was wizzing by the bumpers of cars parked on my side of the street as I was still moving forward although at an angle of a track bike (like the GT racers we just saw here in Indy).</p>
<p>I jerked with all my might to keep from going down. All the while it occurred to me that I am now driving on the wrong side of the street (from jerking up), my foots dragging, and I must stop in just a few yards BEFORE I enter the intersection with the other major one-way street. AAAAAAH!</p>
<p>This is where I testify to the miracle on my motorcycle. God was at work greatly in my life. He got me to stop the motorcycle before getting hit again. I did NOT go down even though broadsided. I think part of the credit for that goes to the fact that I raced bicycles at Major Taylor Velodrome and in racing class and training we would purposefully jam our bicycles into each other to learn how to avoid wrecks and react to unexpected pedal in your spokes.</p>
<p>Once I had managed to stop the forward movement of the cycle, I was standing there with both hand squeezing the calipers on the handlebar (clutch and brake). I was managing to stay balanced on my one right leg, but it was heavy and my other foot was mangled. What was worse is that I couldn&#8217;t shift the cycle into neutral because it would have been done by my useless left foot. I was stuck there!!</p>
<p>Just then, a VERY pregnant woman came up the sidewalk to help me. I remember thinking that the gutteral screams that came out of me were not very feminine (surprised that I sounded like a guy) and that I could even scare her away if I didn&#8217;t quiet them.</p>
<p>She came up to me and saw that I had a problem, but couldn&#8217;t hear me very well through the running of the motorcycle and due to the fact that the visor of my full face helmet was down. So she was fumbling around trying to undo my helmet. I swallowed all screams of pain and yelled, &#8220;PUT&#8230; the KICKSTAND&#8230;. DOWN!&#8221; Once she did that, I killed the bike by turning off the key with the assurance of the kickstand there to keep me from falling over.</p>
<p>I took off my helmet and looked down at my foot. It looked like the ends of two of my toes were missing and I knew that my ankle foot was broken. The lady had called the police and ambulance and wanted to help me to the sidewalk. I initially declined since she looked like she would deliver her baby if she lifted half of my weight. However the incessant throbbing convinced me that I should accept her offer.</p>
<p>We managed to get me to the sidewalk, a couple of very painful steps, and then I was down. Only then did I see that the only damage to the motorcycle was to the left case guard that helps protect the engine&#8230; a $50 part!! Another miracle.</p>
<p>Yes, God saw to it that I did not go down, that I had NO other damage to my body other than my left knee, leg, ankle and foot. Do you realize that if I had gone down I wouldn&#8217;t have been able to even use crutches?</p>
<p>May I just say something about crutches. When I am using them I get the &#8220;oh, you poor thing&#8221; look from everyone. Others using crutches say, &#8216;don&#8217;t you just HATE having to use crutches?&#8221; My answer is a resounding &#8220;NO.&#8221; I love these crutches. This is the original pair and if they had an odometer on them it would have tripped over the 100,000 mile mark about three times. I don&#8217;t know what I would have done without them.</p>
<p>When I am on crutches I can really move!! Just ask my friends. Unfortunately, right now I am recovering from a shoulder injury and can&#8217;t use them yet. So I appreciate them all the more, because without their use I am much more limited. Still I do have the famous &#8220;black boot&#8221; that I can throw on when I am expecting to be &#8220;slammin&#8217;&#8221; (on my feet or walking a lot). Again, I get the looks and the questions &#8220;what happened, did you have another surgery?&#8221;</p>
<p>I know that people are generally caring and tend to think that injuries are supposed to get better. But the sad fact is that some of us are never going to recover from our injuries. Not in this lifetime anyway. These appliances (crutches, canes, boots, funny shoes) are just our ways to cope in the meantime. To try to live a productive life in spite of the physical challenges.<br />
I now joke that I have been through probably about a dozen sets of guardian angels. They draw lots up there to NOT have to get me as a client.</p>
<p><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Almost half of my life has now been in constant pain.</span></span><br />
As a competitive long distance runner I used to just push through the pain. No pain, no gain, right? Maybe so, but you will notice that I don&#8217;t run anymore. I can&#8217;t. If it&#8217;s an emergency or something I can lope along with the understanding that I will have to pay a physical price. I&#8217;ll be &#8220;lame&#8221; for a few days, and have to go back to using my crutches.</p>
<p>Worse than that, I often don&#8217;t realize that I&#8217;m overdoing until after it is too late. Again because my way of dealing with pain was to mentally &#8216;shove it aside&#8217;, I use a kind of self-hypnosis that worked well for me as an athlete, but that can do damage to me now.</p>
<p>Since I am allergic to almost all pain medicines, I can take none. So I really am in constant pain every moment I am awake. But there are a couple of coping skills that I have learned that work for me. Music is the biggest one. When I sing or play, it is a painkiller for me. It helps that I like to sing praises to God with our church worship team and jam on mandolin and guitar with friends. That&#8217;s why you&#8217;ll hear me turn almost any sentence into the lyric and break out into song.</p>
<p>Another painkiller is laughter. My friends help me with this one. Laughter is the best medicine is tried and true. I know that depression is just a natural outcome when someone is dealing with chronic anything. There are chemical things happening in the brain with seratonin and endorphins and such. Since I am unable to be as physically active as I was as an athlete it&#8217;s even more important that I laugh. Like exercise, laughter increases the endorphins; the body&#8217;s natural pain killers.</p>
<p>So that is why when you first meet me you may think that I am very silly. I am learning to roll with the punches and not take things too seriously. I realize that things could ALWAYS be worse. And, in many people&#8217;s cases, they are. However, I also realize that no matter what happens it is all under God&#8217;s control.</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Let God be God: get out of the way.</span><br />
So my plans to be a nurse practitioner were trashed, as were the ability to participate in a lot of the exercises and sports competitions that I enjoyed. Now I have a permanent disability that prevents me from enjoying the life I wanted to live. Besides the walking, standing, foot down time and distance limitations, I have the physical drain of the constant pain. Think about it, when you are in pain you get tired more easily, don&#8217;t you. I think part of that is from swallowing down the pain, not expressing it through some means. The other problem is the emotional drain. Frustration of not being able to do what I once did, it&#8217;s never going to get better than this, the extra time that adaptability methods require. It just takes more time to do things.</p>
<p>For me, with my bent toward perfectionism, I need to get rid of the &#8220;would have,&#8221; &#8220;could have,&#8221; &#8220;should have&#8221; statements. It just is what it is. I am not God. I am learning more and more the importance of the Serenity Prayer:<br />
&#8220;God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things that I cannot change [past, not in my control], Courage to change the things I can [focus on what I CAN do, and learn new ways to adapt], and the Wisdom to know the difference.&#8221;</p>
<p>Over the last 21 years, I have learned a lot. I would not have chosen these events. But I now see where God was in control the entire time. &#8220;I know the plans I have for you&#8230;. plans for hope and a future,&#8221; is what God tells me in Isaiah. It is not the path that I would have willingly chosen for myself&#8230; motorcycle crash, crushed leg, 31 surgeries, pain and disappointments&#8230;. &#8220;sure, sign me up.&#8221; Nonetheless, I am blessed beyond measure. I have become a stronger person who is learning to take my value less from what I do and more for Who&#8217;s I am.</p>
<p>I joke about the fact that with so many surgeries and stuff, the guardian angels have to draw lots in hopes of not getting me as an assignment. I&#8217;m sure I have worn out at least a dozen sets. I know that like Paul, God has allowed me to be molded through trials. That if I hadn&#8217;t had all this happen TO me, because He cares FOR me, I would probably have been a prideful, arrogant, competitive jerk. So when the trumpet sounds, get ready to eat my dust&#8230; cause I&#8217;m going to be running into glory!</p>
<p>==== Today I am celebrating the fact that though this event was traumatic, it began a new direction in my life. A major turn for what I Biblically believe is guananteed to be for the better.</p>
<h3  class="related_post_title">Related Posts</h3><ul class="related_post"><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/imperfect-perfection/" title="Imperfect Perfection">Imperfect Perfection</a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/miracle-on-my-motorcyle/" title="Miracle on My Motorcyle">Miracle on My Motorcyle</a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/leg-work-a-bit-of-bone-surgery/" title="Leg Work: a bit of bone surgery">Leg Work: a bit of bone surgery</a></li></ul>]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Leg Work: a bit of bone surgery</title>
		<link>http://ellen5e.com/p/leg-work-a-bit-of-bone-surgery/</link>
		<comments>http://ellen5e.com/p/leg-work-a-bit-of-bone-surgery/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:28:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>ellen5e</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chronic Pain]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ellen5e.com/p/leg-work-a-bit-of-bone-surgery/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The 21st of February, the very day after I turned 46, I had my 31st surgery. God has been good to me in that I made it through another one. This was the easiest surgery I&#8217;ve ever had on my leg. Dr. Karl Raynor went in and removed 2&#8243; from my left distal fibula (smaller [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZCGov86CI6s/R8b-u7crptI/AAAAAAAAADY/O5SQHkj1pYw/s1600-h/LegE0120080225PostOp+copy.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172101304267024082" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZCGov86CI6s/R8b-u7crptI/AAAAAAAAADY/O5SQHkj1pYw/s320/LegE0120080225PostOp+copy.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The 21st of February, the very day after I turned 46, I had my 31st surgery.  God has been good to me in that I made it through another one.</span></span></p>
<p>This was the easiest surgery I&#8217;ve ever had on my leg.  Dr. Karl Raynor went in and removed 2&#8243; from my left distal fibula (smaller lower leg bone) and the internal bone stimulator that was placed in there when my ankle was  totally fused in May of 2006.</p>
<p>You can see the wires sticking out of where the devise had been.  See that sharp bone sticking out of the back of the leg? That is the place  to which my fibula was cut this time <span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(where some tendon attach)</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">.  It was about 2&#8243; longer but had grown toward the tibia to try to make a pseudo-joint which was causing unbearable bone pain for me.</span></span></p>
<p>The wires from the bone stim were wrapped around the ankle area along with some bone removed from my fibula to help attain a solid fusion.  Though the bone stim is supposed to stimulate bone growth in the area where the wires are located, apparently some EMFs encouraged some bone growth at the end of my fibula that we didn&#8217;t want.</p>
<p>You can see that I have a metal rod and a couple of long screws that bind things together.  It looks rather robotic on xray, but kind of nasty in real life.  I have a crookedy lower left leg with no outer ankle protrusion at all.  It&#8217;s flat and majorly scarred.</p>
<p>Still . . . I have my own leg and foot.  I even have most of my sensory nerve functions so that I feel thing with that foot which is amazing given all that it&#8217;s been through.</p>
<p>I joke with people who can&#8217;t believe how many surgeries I&#8217;ve survived by saying, &#8221; When God does finally take me home, it will probably be from an infection from a paper cut or something small like that.&#8221;</p>
<p>Seriously, the prayers of my friends have helped sustain me through everything.  It is especially important since I am allergic to all the main pain medications.</p>
<p>I went into surgery at about 11 a.m..  My nurse&#8217;s name was also Ellen (43 y.o.) and she also likes to long distance run. Therefore she understood when I said I take the pain and push it aside like when you are waiting for your &#8220;second wind&#8221;.  Still the different people including the anesthesiologist found it hard to believe that I was not taking anything for the intense pain.</p>
<p>I came out of surgery in record time and was very talkative even before I could open my eyes.  I heard Dr. Summers (the anesthesiologist) check on me before he left.  I asked him to please give us some &#8220;Summer&#8221; weather. It was a bad joke, but he laughed anyway.</p>
<p>At 1 p.m. I was home in my own bed!  The nerve block that they gave me in surgery worked so well that I felt no bone pain, just sharp cut of the incision.  The On-Q Pain med ball was in place to drip Marcaine right into the surgical site, and was a godsend for the three days it worked!</p>
<p>With my leg elevated in the wheelchair, I am finally able to get back to my computer to catch up (if that&#8217;s EVEN possible) with all the things I need to attend to. [Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition because that's how I would speak naturally].</p>
<p>Currently, I am using lydocaine pain patches next to the incision for 12 hours a day to help with the pain.  I am to be non-weightbearing until at least Monday when I get the stitches out.</p>
<p>The most frustrating thing is that I can&#8217;t do housework that I want, cook supper, or be much help around here.  AND I am lonely, since I am unable to go out just yet.  Thank God for phone calls and book reading, cause there&#8217;s hardly anything worth watching on TV.</p>
<p>Well, I&#8217;m gonna call it quits for this post.  I&#8217;ll just be &#8220;kickin&#8217; back&#8221; and recovering for a bit.</p>
<h3  class="related_post_title">Related Posts</h3><ul class="related_post"><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/crashed-and-turned/" title="Crashed and Turned">Crashed and Turned</a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/big-pain-with-ultimate-gain/" title="Big Pain with Ultimate Gain">Big Pain with Ultimate Gain</a></li><li><a href="http://ellen5e.com/p/without-a-leg-to-stand-on/" title="Without a Leg to Stand On">Without a Leg to Stand On</a></li></ul>]]></content:encoded>
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