After injuring my knee yesterday while performing a dance routine, I spent last night in my mom’s recliner. Since I tend to toss and turn in the middle of the night, I was afraid I’d make things worse if I were in my bed. Plus, my bed’s a waterbed, and I imagined getting in and out of it wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. Ugh, it’s amazing what you take for granted when you’re well and healthy. Last night and today my parents have had to do everything for me–get me my toothbrush and medications, plug in my phone and laptop, hand me my pillows, make my breakfast. And whereas I did manage to dress myself for the day, I had to lie down on the floor to do so, and my parents had to tie my shoes.

This afternoon, with the aid of crutches I borrowed from my aunt, I made my way to The Fort Smith Little Theater to rehearse for an upcoming holiday variety show that I committed to being in a few weeks ago. And whereas the original plan was for the entire improv comedy group I’m in to perform in the show, it ended up being just me. So today I joined with several junior high and high school students to prepare for a musical improv sketch–you know, the kind where we sing songs about random situations the audience suggests. Anyway, other than my having to sit for most of the rehearsal, or simply stand there on crutches while the others danced about, it was great fun. Not only did I learn some new things (I’ve never done MUSICAL improv before), it was good to get out of the house and be around the young and vivacious.

That being said, I kept looking at those teenagers thinking, Be CAREFUL with your legs! Don’t take your knees for granted!

After working at the theater, I drove to a friend’s house in Fort Smith to pick up another pair of crutches, since the ones I got from my aunt were a couple inches too short for me. My friend’s husband handed me the crutches and said, “And now for my next trick!” Hum. I’m not sure if that’s as funny on paper as it was in person, but it really did make me laugh out loud. I got this image of me about to do the stunt I did last night and saying, “Hey, y’all, watch this.” Whatever. As I told someone at the theater today, the part where I jumped over my friend’s head went really well, I just didn’t stick the landing.

This evening I’ve been planted in a comfy chair in the corner of our living room with my legs propped up on an ottoman. Mostly I’ve been scrolling through social media or reading a book. I think I fell asleep at one point. I really haven’t felt that great today. I’ve been tired, worn out, and slightly nauseated. Emotionally, I keep bouncing back and forth between Everything will be all right and If one more frickin’ thing goes wrong, I’m going to absolutely snap. In this moment, I’m leaning toward the second viewpoint, and I’m okay with that. What I mean is that so often when life throws me a curve ball, I immediately put up my defenses and formulate “a plan.” For instance, in my current situation I’m already thinking about going to doctors, doing physical rehab, and coming out of this thing “better than ever.” But THAT thought is honestly more exhausting than my knee injury, and what actually feels good in this moment is to simply sit with this feeling of overwhelm, to really get okay with not being in control or having all the answers.

But back to the theater. Improv comedy is hard enough, but musical improv is even harder. I mean, you’ve got this guy playing the piano, and when it’s your time to make up a verse, you really can’t stall for more than four bars. If you do, it gets awkward. But the advice that was given to us today was 1) your verses don’t HAVE to rhyme and 2) if you can’t come up with a good story, just state the facts. For example, we sang a song about stars, so my “just the facts, ma’am” verse went like this: “Stars are bright / Stars do twinkle / Stars are far, far away / They make me smile.” My point is that often I try to take my difficult circumstances and turn them into poetry, like this isn’t so bad because look at what I learned. However, sometimes this is simply too difficult to do, especially when the shit has seriously hit the fan within the last twenty-four hours.

So if I were to sing a song about what’s going on with my leg, my first verse would go–

My body’s tired
My knee is throbbing
I’m oh-so-very frustrated
I feel like I could cry (if only I knew how)

Then the chorus would go–

This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
No more straws for me

I know this “woe-is-me” tune isn’t profound, but as our musical improv teacher said, “It’s the truth, and the truth is interesting, compelling, and beautiful, and it certainly gets the job done.” That is, saying something simple yet truthful is better than standing there with your thumb up your butt and not saying (or singing) anything at all. Of course, staying silent is tempting; it’s terrifying to create on the fly, to have NO IDEA what’s going to come out of your mouth at the moment you open it. But that’s the darling thing about improv. Sometimes you hit on something really lovely. So I’m trying to remember this, that I don’t have to have a plan for healing (or even my life), that I don’t have to know what my next trick will be. Rather, I can simply start with the facts–I’m hurting, I’m overwhelmed–and see where this truth takes me and how it sets me free.