The ability to question, to reason, is what sets us apart from other inhabitants of our planet. It is a blessing, and a curse. It can drive us forward, and it can hold us back. It can expand our horizons and send us into ever decreasing circles. As a therapist, it is one of the questions that I hear most in the counselling room. Why? Why has this happened? Why has this happened, now? Why me? Why, why, why? It is a question of some torture, because sometimes answers are hard to come by. What, when, where… these are easier ones to grab hold of. How sometimes remains a mystery, but why is the stuff of anguish.
How many times have you thought ‘why has this happened?’. I know it’s a question that’s battered my consciousness from time to time. Recently quite a lot. I have sustained an acute injury to my left knee, a tear of the medial collateral ligament (I didn’t realise I had any until a few weeks ago), which has rendered me pretty immobile, and in considerable discomfort. In the days after the fluke accident, when it didn’t settle with the “RICE” process, I got increasingly frustrated. ‘Why has this happened?’ I kept on asking. ‘What is the purpose of this?’ For it is my belief that things happen for a reason. I’m not much closer to understanding why, but I am less frustrated, because of the process of my thoughts and the passage of time.
I have learned that a torn ligament will take longer than a broken bone to mend. If I want to recover well, I have to rest as well as stimulate (under the guidance of a wonderful physiotherapist) my knee. I need to allow up to three months for recovery, at the end of which, I should have a fully functioning knee. In understanding all of this, I’ve got to a place of acceptance. I’m still wondering why, but not from a place of agitation. Perhaps I will never know why, perhaps I will. For now, I must wait.