A Broken Arm, A Lesson Learned.

I would be lying if I said that breaking my arm was the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. In fact, in hind sight, the whole situation was extremely humorous and makes for a killer story. And, my scar from the surgery is enough to start a conversation.

But, I will say that, even though the actual break wasn't a struggle for me, the helplessness and inadequacy I felt because of the injury was. 

Those four days in between the fall in the surgery were the worst. The simplest things--taking a shower, brushing my teeth, putting on a shirt--were literally impossible. No matter which way I moved, my arm that simply sat broken in a temporary cast, would shoot a sharp pain through my entire arm and down my side. I couldn't even sleep more than two hours straight a night, because one simple movement would wake me up with tears in my eyes.

I had this false assumption that, after my surgery, everything would be fixed. Everything would be back to normal, and I could simply forget all of silliness that was my broken arm. But, no. Of course not. According to my doctor, I had a numberless about of pins in my arms, and I would not regain full range of motion due to the extent of the injury. And, it would be another two months before I could drive, and another 4 months until I could lift anything heavier than a few pounds. 

Meanwhile, here I am at home getting extremely frustrated with myself. It's like that scene from Soul Surfer where Bethany Hamilton is convinced she can continue on normally once she gets home from the hospital, only to find that she can't even open a pack of bread. 

Yes, I realize I am lucky. And I realize that, unlike Bethany Hamilton  I still have both of my arms. But, that doesn't diminish the amount of frustration I felt after my surgery. I genuinely couldn't lift a cup of coffee--it was way too heavy and I felt like I was going to drop it. I couldn't stretch a hair tie with my hand--my fingers would just shake and my arm would ache in pain. I couldn't even walk around for more than 20 minutes without my arm blowing up like a balloon. 

I felt so incompetent and helpless and dependent. And, if you know me, you know that I tend to be too independent and hard-headed for my own good. So, this lack of control and increase in dependency literally irritated me. I spent my entire Thanksgiving and Christmas break feeling overwhelmingly frustrated with myself. I couldn't do anything without even a little assistance.

Of course, ever since my surgery, this feeling of inadequacy hasn't exactly faded. I haven't been able to do a lot of things because of my arm. And, it still frustrates me. 

I realize all of this sounds rather negative and "complainy", but I assure you my outlook has changed. Only now, four months since the original fall, do I see the benefit of breaking my arm.

First and foremost, God utilized my fear to make me rely completely on Him. I realize for a lot of people, surgery isn't that big of a deal. But, for me, the thought of being unconscious for 6 hours on an operation table legitimately terrified me. And, no matter what any of my friends or family said to me, I just wanted to burst out in tears. God knew that--so He put me in a position where only He could comfort me. 

Second, God helped me prioritize my relationships. It was in the hospital where I realized that my family is one of the most important parts of my lives. And, my dearest friends showed their compassion as well. From this experience, I was able to weed out by good friends, from my best friends. Plus, I only had my family to talk to when I was limited to a bed or couch for weeks, so my relationships with my family grew much stronger.

Third, God is challenging my understanding of beauty. For the last few months, I have seen myself as broken and morphed. I've seen my left arm as forever ugly--birthmark, six inch incision scar, and an elbow incapable of straightening. Meanwhile, I have God whispering in my ear, saying, "Do you really think beauty is based on your skin? Come on now. You are made in My image. Am I not beautiful?"

But, most importantly, as I hinted at in the beginning of this post, God has challenged my sense of independence. I thoroughly believed that independence was something to strive for, but I have learned that dependency is beautiful, and helps humble a heart.

I've tried my best to not complain about my arm. And shy away from talking about it. But, I keep failing and always fall into this long winded complaint or repeating my story over and over again.

And for that I apologize, because I don't mean to be a negative Nelly or an attention seeker. It's just my natural response to my arms and it's effects on my confidence and relationships, and it's something that I've been trying to work on. 

Shameless Selfie.

There is just something about a cute outfit and a good hair day. I've been in the best mood all day.

And, yes, I took a selfie. Sorry, not sorry.

Taylor and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

This week has had a very reoccurring theme: Taylor's own stupidity and lack of a thought process has lead to an unnecessarily annoying week.

First, I lost my keychain with two USB drives on it. Fantastic. So, I got to say good bye to two semesters worth of lecture notes, readings, articles, sorority documents, and my in-progress novel. Yippee.

I missed both the Bachelor and Pretty Little Liars because I was in the library trying to rewrite everything I lost on my USB drives.

I have three exams next week that I am no where near prepared for.

Then, for some strange reason, I am having extreme difficulty when it comes to remembering where I park my car in the morning. My days are so long that, by the time that I am heading back to my car late at night, I realize I am on the opposite side of campus from where I parked my car that morning. Rough.

And to top it all off, Starbucks ceased it's BOGO deal as soon as I wanted coffee. Lame!

Okay, but really; do I not sound like a spoiled brat right now?

Not cool, Taylor. Not cool.

As much as this week has been a little bummy, I've had to tell myself several times to SHUT UP. THIS IS ALL MINUSCULE AND STUPID. Does anyone else find themselves turning into a Negative Nesbit when they happen to wake up on the wrong side of the bed?

I know I do. If I ever start sounding like a fun-sucker, call me out on it.

Instead, let me tell you of somethings I am thankful for this week.

One: I have two jobs with awesome co-workers who deal with my awkwardness and relatively recent disorganization.

Two: I have a community of Christian women that I get to hang out with every day; whether that be for moral support or random giggles.

Three: I feel so good! I've lost weight, almost at 13 pounds I think? And I haven't caught the nasty sinus infection that has been going around (knock on wood).

Fourth:  My Pop-Pop is feeling a bit better!

Fifth: I haven't gotten any less than six hours of sleep a night; hallelujah!

And sixth: I had a good hair day today.

There, that's better. I need to learn to make positive lists more often. And maybe, just maybe, all the negatives will make less of a presence in my silly little mind.

Random Thoughts

Here are my random thoughts for the day.

1) I learned today that bacon-flavored ice cream actually exists. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

2) Your day is always infinitely better when you have a good hair day.

3) My grandparents make me smile (a.k.a. the pictures below).

Humility.

"It's almost impossible to offend a humble person." - Bryan Loritts

Point blank: Humility is something I struggle with. A lot.

I'll admit that I like being right. I like the feeling of leadership. I like being able to say that I've done a good job at something. Of course, there is nothing wrong with truth, leadership, or completing a job well-done. No, of course not. All of those are good things, but in moderation. And, for some reason, I continuously cross the line between "good" and "thinking I'm good."

I can't shake it. My life would be so radically different if humility was engrained into my brain.

Arguing with my brother, who is six years younger than me? Wouldn't happen.
Dodge a conversation about Christ to the girl sitting next to me on the bus? Wouldn't happen.
Complaining about my so-called bad day? Wouldn't happen.
Do you want the reader's digest version? A majority of my daily actions and words wouldn't occur if I had a humble mindset.

It amazes me how such a seemingly isolated struggle actually permeates into a majority of the areas in my life.

I really started recognizing this struggle when I read this quote: "It's almost impossible to offend a humble person." 

Primarily, the quote made me think because I realized how often I get offended over the most idiotic things--drivers who cut me off, people who butt me in the line at Starbucks, or professors who give me a low grade on a paper that I worked hours on. 

Some how, in all of those minuscule daily situations, I convinced myself that my agenda and my sense of self is of higher priority than anything else. Some how, in some way, my flesh convinced my mind that my car should be of highest respect on the road. That I deserve my coffee first because I had been waiting a whole 60 seconds longer. Or, that I know more than the professor. 

Never once do I reflect on the fact that maybe, just maybe, the car that cut me off was rushing in an emergency. Or, that the girl that cut me in line just made a mistake and didn't see me. Or, that I actually made a mistake on my paper because I didn't fully read the prompt.

Second, I think the quote hit me hard because I realized, comparatively, I have nothing to be upset or offended about. At Passion, my Community Group leader gave his testimony. He grew up Muslim, but as a teenager-ish age, he became a Christian. As a result, his father disowned him. It amazed me how much humility he had, to sacrifice the only "normal" life he had known and the relationship with his family to become a Christian. 

I realized then how much humility I lacked; because I know for a fact I wouldn't be able to give up my familial relationships, if that is what it came down too. Because, I put to much priority on my own happiness and my own relationships.

So, here is my challenge to myself. Every time--every single time--that I feel even the slightest offense, I will keep my mouth shut. And I will just pray. Because, 9.9 times out of 10, the issue is not with the person doing the offending, but with me.

My reaction is a reflection of my heart, and if I cannot humble myself enough to avoid offense in simple situations, than it is clear that I need to work on something. 

If can learn humility, then I can start learning love. Peace. Boldness. Beauty. And everything that only come from learning to trust and prioritize God, rather than myself.