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Tearful goodbye

Last night was my last volleyball match. On my walk home scratch that on my limp home, I shed a few tears over the loss I will feel in months to come and over the uncertainty of when I will be back on the court. Then, I forced myself to laugh over the fact that instead of crying over the searing pain shooting down my leg, I was crying about giving up the sport that was causing the pain. And finally, I settled into the realization that in order to get rid of the problems, I have to go through the pain of surgery and heartache of letting certain activities go. And then, one last tear may have escaped.

Talk about mixed emotions ...

It may sound silly to some, but volleyball has been a constant in my life. From ultra-competitive training in high school to exciting intra murals in college to super fun work and gym leagues, I've always known that one day a week, I'd be playing a sport I loved with people I loved to be with.

I think it would be less difficult to give it up knowing I'd be back on a certain date. Not only is my return date completely up in the air, but Dr. Mayo has mentioned that returning in a competitive fashion wouldn't be the greatest idea. (I'm in denial about the latter and have not yet told my teammates this is even a possibility.)

In moments like these, I force myself to accept the harrowing truth of the quote in one of my favorite movies:

"You've got to accept this. You're a human being and there are limitations. You can't run away from it. You can't hide from it, and you can't change it. It simply is."
Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken

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