Six months ago today I had knee surgery to repair my ACL. And whereas I still have progress to make–things aren’t perfect yet–I’ve technically reached all my milestones and hit the “all clear” point. As of now I can jump, spin, dance, and swim. Wow. Talk about the end of a long journey. Again, there’s still work to do. This morning I walked down a steep driveway, and my left leg felt a bit wobbly. My surgeon says it will take a full year to regain my strength. But I don’t have to limit my activities anymore. Now–supposedly–my new ACL is getting good enough blood flow to be considered “healed.”

To celebrate, this afternoon I ate a cheeseburger (and fries) and went shopping. There’s a shelf in my bathroom that has an empty spot on it (oh no!), and although I rarely shop for knickknacks (at least since I had my estate sale and became a minimalist over two years ago), I thought, Maybe I can find something to put on that shelf. And whereas I didn’t find anything for my bathroom, I did end up buying a medium-sized statue for my room at a local antique store. Basically the statue is a hot (shirtless) dude holding a flag. I’d admired him a number of times over the years, but–alas–he cost more than I wanted to spend. However (thankfully?), he was much more affordable today because at some point he’d been damaged. Like, now he’s missing a finger and part of his flag pole (and yes, I mean that literally). Oh well, I thought, I had knee surgery six months ago. I understand not being perfect.

I can’t tell you how exciting getting the statue was. For one thing, I’d completely forgotten about him, so it was like a surprise. Oh yeah, I like him! For another thing, the shop owner gave me a discount off the (already less than it used to be) sticker price. Knowing there would be some savings because they had a sale going on, I said, “Oh, that’s even better than I was hoping for.” Seriously, I almost squealed. On top of all this, I had the best time talking to the shop owner, who chatted with me for over thirty minutes about some of the pieces in the store and how she got started in the business in the first place. “The banker tried to convince me that a shop like this would never make it,” she said. “That was thirty-six years ago, and we’re still standing.”

Thinking about my knee and my anything-but-perfect life, I thought, Me too, lady. Me too.

This evening I spent over an hour shuffling things in my room in order to accommodate the statue. You know how moving one thing means moving everything. No kidding, over seventy-five percent of the books and other items I had on the piece of furniture where the statue is now got rearranged. This, I think, is why people are afraid of change (in their lives, not on their shelves). Because everyone, deep down, understands that you can’t change one thing without changing it all. The example I often use is that if you develop even one ounce of self-esteem (Oh yeah, I like me!)–watch out–every relationship in your life is about to be turned upside down. Said another way, when you change the way you see yourself, you change the way you see–and interact with–the entire world.

Moving one thing means moving everything.

The statue I purchased this afternoon was originally sculpted by Charles Perron and is entitled “Paix et Travail,” which is French for “peace and work.” I didn’t realize this about the title when I bought the statue, but I think it’s one of those cool universe things, since my goal here (in therapy, on this blog, and in life) is more inner peace, and I often talk about doing The Hard Work. For me, the two go hand in hand. That is, if you want real peace in your life, there’s a lot of damn effort involved. It means looking at and cleaning up your past, owning your shit, having difficult conversations, and being willing for everything in both your interior and external worlds to change. Conversely, a certain amount of inner peace, or at least inner stability, is a prerequisite for doing The Hard Work because–again–it completely shuffles your deck and cuts it in half, and you’ve got to be centered enough to say, “Even if my entire world falls apart, I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to come together.”