Getting back up
As I lay on the pavement joking and watching clouds float past, I was thinking about my summer plans. I’d just fallen off my bike and I didn’t know it yet, but my right clavicle had been broken into more than five pieces. Oops. All it took was one moment of lapsed attention.
Throughout the surgery and recovery my spirits remained good. I knew I’d heal up, be able to ride a bike again, and get cracking at that 15 lbs I put on while injured. I’m good at following plans. I followed my doctors’ and physiotherapist’s orders down to the letter. This often meant abstaining from activities that give me joy, but it worked out when my surgeon cleared me to ride my bike six weeks earlier than expected!
I was ecstatic to be able to ride a bike again, initially. Then I started thinking about riding a bike again. My chest got tight. Tears welled in my eyes. The same image ran through my head over and over again; looking down and the handlebars aren’t underneath my hands and then the pavement rushes up to meet my shoulder as I desperately try to roll my skull away.
While I was physically recovering, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I might need mental recovery. It was inconceivable that in an instant the activity that is my greatest source of joy and mental positivity could become a massive source of anxiety and fear. I guess that’s what trauma does. Now, I get to dig myself out of this trauma just like the other ones I’ve struggled with in my past.
I’ve been riding, but it’s different than before. I have to stop and find a quiet place to cry. I don’t achieve my goals. I head home early and slowly or I arrive tense and glum. There has been one exception, however, and that’s when I rode with QueerBikeClubTO to Tommy Thompson Park, the place where I shattered my collarbone. The vibe was just right and it put me at ease. I barely thought about my injury except when I told the story. I was literally toothy grin smiling like the Cheshire Fucking Cat as I rode my bike with them. I want more of that. I want everyone to have more of that, and it’s possible when we don’t give up because of one moment of lapsed attention.
Ry riding with QueerBikeClubTO after breaking their collarbone
