Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Progress is a Process



"Burdens are the foundations of ease and bitter things the forerunners of pleasure."
Rumi

If there is one thing I have learned the past year it's that our struggles build and shape us.  If I were able to see myself a year ago, before two knee surgeries, a cross country expedition, and international relocation, I'd probably want to tell myself to get ready to hold on tight, it will be a bumpy ride.

It's probably best to start from before the knee surgeries and touch upon how I ended up on a hospital bed for the 5th time before my 25th birthday.

Along with art, I had a passion that drove most of my decisions - snowboarding.  I was riding close to 100 days a year and competing in freestyle and rail competitions throughout the year.  It didn't matter how many concussions I endured, how many bruises I was marked with, how sore my joints felt - I was going to get out in the mountains and strap in.


The feeling of floating, the elation of competition, the happiness of exploration, the inspiration from nature, the connection with cultures around the world - all these things I found in snowboarding.  I was hungry and I didn't know how to listen to my body and slow down.  Eventually this habit of pushing past the pain, emptying bottles of tylenol, and just toughing it out caught up with me.


My most recent surgery this past May involved a bone matched cadaver, a meniscus cadaver, 11 hours unconscious on a surgery bed, an unknown number of internal and external stitches, and over 35 staples.  I was 24, 130 pounds, and scared when I went under anesthesia.


I left Fletcher Allen Hospital a different person - petrified, in pain, and completely immobile.  The next few weeks were full of medications, emotions, withdrawals, pains, and depression.  I dropped to about 100 pounds from complications with the prescribed narcotics, I was mentally unavailable, and sitting up in bed felt as difficult as running a marathon.  I felt myself getting sucked into this spiral of self pity and hopelessness.

That's when I turned to art to try and make sense of my feelings and perceptions of my immediate world.  Immediately I felt, at least a little, better emotionally.  Here was something I could control, something that didn't cause me pain or anxiety, something that at times made me laugh.  The realization that the world doesn't stop unless you allow it to saved me... from myself.

Sketch during first week of recovery - May 2013
 I still couldn't see the end of the road, or imagine myself being where I was before this surgery, but I felt empowered for the first time in weeks.  I could work through this - starting with my mind, and my body would follow.

Along with sketches, I created an Instagram series called "Adventures of Foot" to document my road to recovery, keep my mind focused on something other than the radiating pain from my left knee, and to give my family and friends updates on my process without feeling the pressure of formulating coherent sentences.  It also helped seeing people interacting with these story boards.  I felt less alone.


During this healing time I was packing up my life to send to my new home in Vancouver, British Columbia.  At first the idea of doing anything but going to physical therapy and getting stronger was unfathomable.  However, as the boxes became sealed and shipped I began to truly realize how fortunate I was to have an opportunity to move internationally, no matter how less than ideal this timing was.

I began to submit to this change, listen to my body, and build myself back bit by bit.  My health was improving day by day, and I was going to move to an outdoor enthusiast's paradise. 


Rediscovering the importance of yoga, as it had happened with art, was another essential point in my recovery process.  The practice of yoga helps build focus and patience while slowly awakening muscles and fibers that, especially now, had been dormant.


Seeing the changes finally come filled me with excitement, and by the time I was able to get on a bicycle (3 months after my surgery) I was feeling more determined than ever.  I could walk, bike, stretch, and I was about to embark on the biggest solo journey I had ever done - a drive across the United States, ending in Vancouver, British Columbia.  Seeing this as an opportunity to learn more about the country, myself, and my art practice I created a project called the "Between the Points Project".


The Between the Points Project investigated how traveling would affect the creative process during my drive and relocation from Burlington Vermont to Vancouver British Columbia.  The project was funded by individuals who purchased either a postcard to be sent during the trip, or an original artwork made during the trip that would be sent upon my arrival in Canada.  Over 60 individuals became involved in the project, along with the material support from Artists' Mediums, Black Horse Fine Art Supply, and Desillusion Magazine.  On the morning of August 5th I set off on what would be a 2 week journey of discover, creativity, and physical rehabilitation.




I needed to stop every few hours to stretch my leg, so I brought along a craigslist hand-me-down bicycle and used it as a way to strengthen and explore.


I arrived in Vancouver, albeit tired, energized from an inspiring journey, stronger from months of persistence, and determined to have a better approach to my passions and physical activities.  The biking didn't stop, it only increased, along with hiking and exploring a new city - my new home.


I did my best not to think about snowboarding.  My doctor had stated my participation in that sport would need to be put off for at least a year.  If I was going to be snowboarding, he made it clear I would need to be approaching it as a physical therapy activity - not a competitive sport.  I again turned to art to try and process these feelings.  I created a mini-series of 20 original artworks, each priced at $20, called 20 BY 20 where I focused on the forms in yoga that I had become so involved with during my recovery.  I depended on these poses to help heal, and I was curious how examining them on paper would feel.

Ashtanga - 5" x 9" - Ink and Watercolor
Backbends - 5" x 9" - Ink and Watercolor

While that helped channel a certain amount of my restlessness I still felt the itch of snowboarding at the back of my brain.  I could feel the sensations of winter working their way into my mind and artwork.  I could find the colors in all the art I was currently producing.

Work in Progress - 12" x 24" - Acrylic on Canvas

Always Always
11" x 14" - Ink, Watercolor, Acrylic

Knowing myself and my previous approach to snowboarding, not to mention the still present pains and reminders of my surgery, I had just about given into this idea of taking the season off completely, and taking up something more passive... like knitting.

But then again, I am a stubborn Sagittarius.


I had spent the last 6 months focused on gaining strength and stability, listening to my body's needs, and building confidence.  With the urging of my partner and the opportunity to explore a new part of British Columbia in a relatively low-risk way, I packed up my split board, skins, poles, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and headed into the wilderness.


Slow and steady, one step at a time, I carefully climbed that ridge, feeling confident about the guides I was with, and pretty sure my knee wasn't going to implode along the way.  When we reached the top I was filled with the most uncomfortable anxiety, and the feeling that I had just made the same damaging mistake again.  After all these months, countless hours of watching my toes flicker, I had put myself in a situation that was going to destroy all that progress.


I then realized that this self-doubting mentality was more damaging than the slope in front of me would ever be.  Without the belief that I am competent, capable, and strong I would never achieve those traits.  I had momentarily allowed myself to lose that connection with my breath and my inner strength.  I took a deep breath (or maybe a few) and carefully and cautiously made my decent.


 That feeling of happiness and excitement surrounding snowboarding came back for those few turns.  I'd be lying to say I didn't experience some discomfort in my knee, but I'd be foolish to say I shouldn't have been there - that I wasn't prepared.  I had gained back a certain amount of confidence in, literally, getting back on top of that mountain.

I wanted to revisit that feeling, but also to ensure that it wasn't just a fluke - that I hadn't just narrowly danced around another injury.  The next weekend I embarked on a two day journey into the mountains, paired with learning about the new terrain and the intricacies of snow.


Each turn felt better than the preceding.  Each engagement felt more comfortable than the previous.  While I can feel the leg is still weaker than the other, I know there is enough strength there to participate in my passions once again.  I know the road to recovery is not yet over, nor even close to completion, but I have learned some valuable things thus far:

- Your body is a blessing, and it deserves to be listened to, nurtured, and empowered -

- It's okay to take time away from something you love, as long as you understand it is only temporary -

- It's okay to accept help - it is a sign of affection -

- Pain is powerful - in the moment and after the fact.  Take it in and learn from it -

And perhaps the most important of all...

- Never give up . Never give in -


Here's to another journey, another season, another lesson to learn.

Jessa Gilbert







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