Would I ever fully return to practicing the sport that caused my knee injury?

It’s a long way to the top …. (Image courtesy of worldofmiri.com)

After three weeks, I almost quit

Thirteen months post tearing the ACL (Anterior Crucial Ligament) of my left knee and roughly ten months after having reconstructive surgery, I was back in my martial arts class. To recap, an epic front jump kick with a not so epic landing had put me into the whole malaise in the first place. (I’m still disappointed no one filmed the kick. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to perform a feat like this again!)

Returning to class felt overwhelming

Returning to taekwondo for the first time since more than a year felt daunting. Would my knee hold up? Would I be able to pace myself? What if an accidental movement led to a re-rupture? I was nervous.

However, the first class went surprisingly well. Everyone was happy to have me back. I took it at an easy pace and did not mind being the last in any of the warm-up activities. After all, I was running again! This felt great after months on crutches. I did not yet perform full-level kicks, but just being back in the movement felt great. It was also lovely to be part of the group again.

The second class was okay as well. I did not feel ready to participate in the full-body contact sparring of that night, so I partnered with someone who also opted for a low impact practice. I noticed how my mind told me to hold it back making my movements less fluid and maybe even a bit jerky. I didn’t yet participate in any pivoting exercises or full kicks, but I felt comfortable with exploring my range of movement.

The ‘crash’ happened in the third week. Topic of that night was the practicing of our patterns, a sequence of fighting movements to be memorized and performed at the grading to demonstrate certain techniques and skill. For my next belt level, the green one, I’d have to demonstrate two different patterns. Before my injury, I had been fairly comfortable with both. However, I had not looked at or practiced any of them in more than a year.

The class split into small groups and set about the task of going through their respective patterns.

My mind went blank and I felt stuck

I swallowed. I could not remember the names of the patterns nor their starting moves. I had forgotten all about the ‘ready’ position which comes at the beginning of every pattern. I copied my class mates, but was stuck after a few moves. Everyone was patient and helpful. They waited for me, went over the moves again and encouraged me. However, I was unable to get into the flow of the technique as I had been before. My mind simply couldn’t put it together. I felt like a complete jerk. Within minutes, my mood plummeted. Frustration soared through me. I blankly stared at the others, not able to grasp, let alone copy their steps. Eventually, I simply stood there, stunned, with pressure on my chest and tears burning in my eyes. I decided to never return to class.

I know. I did not behave like an ‘adult’. In fact, I did not even feel like an adult. Instead, I felt like a five-year-old child staring at her teacher, not understanding what she was supposed to do, confused, frustrated, and lost. It was as if I was seeing the world through an old story, and in that moment, it was impossible for me to step outside of it.

In theory, I know what to do in such a situation. In the last few years, I’ve been exploring the concepts of the ‘inner child’, childhood pain and healing modalities. Any emotion or stored traumatic experience remains in the body and psyche and will eventually be triggered to be healed. I know what is needed in such a case. The emotions need to be acknowledged, the wound needs to be seen, and the pain needs to be allowed to surface. There it was, a real opportunity for healing and moving forward. But I couldn’t do it. Not in that moment.

I briefly contemplated leaving the class early so I could allow my tears to flow. Instead, I opted to hold myself together for the last ten minutes. I didn’t participate anymore, but simply watched.

Looking at myself through adult eyes

When I was in the car on my way home, I allowed my tears to flow. I sobbed for maybe fifteen minutes. Afterwards, I felt lighter, but also exhausted and tired. I dropped into bed early that night.

I don’t remember the particular childhood incident this situation brought up. I don’t think that’s necessary. I hope I was able to heal this lost part of me by allowing it to be felt. At least, I don’t feel like never returning to class any more. Instead, I hope to assess the situation through my adult eyes by acknowledging how far I’ve come since my accident and granting myself the time I need until I can perform the next epic front kick! Would you mind filming it?