Louise Penny once wrote, “Things are strongest where they’re broken.” There are so many jewels sprinkled throughout Penny’s writing. Sentences formed without adornment that illuminate a feeling or belief so genuine and universal you wonder why you hadn’t thought to say them first. This one stood out to me. I don’t recall in which book she said it first. Perhaps, it sticks in my mind because it’s repeated throughout the series. Perhaps, with the exhausting vigilance of facing threats to women’s safety and rights, I am buoyed by the reminder that I am strongest where I’ve been broken. But then I thought of my foot, and I realized we are stronger still when we support each other. Let me tell you a story about my foot.
During the pandemic, I worked from home for months. After a few weeks, I felt a pain in my right foot. Not bad enough to see a doctor, which was great because doctors weren’t seeing anyone, I consulted Dr. Mama (me) and treated myself with the usual rest, ice, elevation, and anti-inflammatories. As time went on, it got worse. I developed a hard bump the size of a golf ball on the top of my arch. An extensive search of medical websites revealed a series of unpleasant possibilities. Fortunately, the podiatrist office reopened before I completed my diagnosis, which was leaning toward Melorheostosis (don’t ask).
The doctor took an x-ray and asked me when I had broken my foot. To which I replied, never. He showed me the x-ray where I had completely separated the Lisfranc’s joint between the 1st metatarsal and the medial cuneiform. Then I remembered that I had tripped in the garage about five years before when I was waiting for back surgery. At the time, my foot hurt very badly. I brought it up to my doctor, my physical therapist, and my neurosurgeon. All of whom told me the same thing. There’s nothing wrong with your foot. The surgery will fix this. Spoiler alert, it did not.
Lesson 1: We are strongest where we are broken AND we must trust our experience and advocate vociferously and relentlessly for ourselves.
I believed and trusted them. Over the next year, I focused on healing from my surgery. My foot only flared up occasionally, so I did not seek help. After all, what would be the point. They didn’t think I was injured when it happened. Now, it was only intermittently painful. If they didn’t help me then, why would they help me now?
Fast forward to the present, the podiatrist explained that since it was not treated at the time the bone had grown around the joint to strengthen it, creating what amounted to a big chunk of arthritis. Using a plastic model, he showed me how the joint was supposed to move as I walked, cushioning the force of each step. Because the bone was solid, it could not flex. Every step stressed and cracked it a little, so my body just added more bone to reinforce it (growing bone is my superpower, by the way). Years of minimizing the injury and outright ignoring the pain forced my body to protect me in a way that ultimately harmed me.
Lesson 2: We are strongest where we are broken AND, if we do not face the issue, natural solutions will be created that, while protective in the short term, ultimately cause unnecessary pain and harm.
I am a problem solver so, of course, I was not interested in wallowing in what got me to this point. I wanted to talk about how we were going to fix this. The podiatrist explained the options starting with the most extreme—a joint replacement to restore it to its original function. (Hard no.) At the other end was something much simpler—arch supports. If the joint had something supporting it, the swelling would go away, and with it the pain. In effect, my body would not have to keep growing bone to encase the joint, if the joint was not stressed and cracking with every step I took. I could keep doing everything I always did without increasing the damage and pain just by using a little support.
Lesson 3: We are strongest where we are broken AND accepting support allows us to keep moving forward and makes us stronger.
I am not a fan of regret or recrimination. There’s not much point in wishing things were different than they are. That leads to suffering not solution. I am a fan of reflection and learning. I know I have learned when I apply that learning to the present and change the outcome. As I sit with the frustration, anger, and fear about the threats to women’s safety, health and human rights, I am going to apply these lessons.
I will trust my experience and advocate for myself vociferously and relentlessly. I will trust the experience of women and advocate vociferously and relentlessly for them.
I will face the issues and not accept solutions that, while protective in the short term, ultimately cause unnecessary pain and harm.
I will accept and give support so that we will keep moving forward and be stronger, individually and collectively.
Louise Penny is right, in part. We are strongest where we are broken AND when we advocate for ourselves, face the problem, and support each other.
Great thoughts and reminders. Thanks!
Thank you!
Self-advocacy and supportive community are two of my favorite things! Thanks for this thoughtful reminder.
Also, I tripped in *my* garage in August and have continuing pain in the exact same place. You’re spurring me to go get an X-ray!
And have you seen the Japanese art of mending things with gold, kintsugi?
The solutions to our brokenness can be beautiful in themselves:
https://konmari.com/beauty-in-broken-things/#:~:text=Kintsugi%20%E2%80%94%20which%20means%20%E2%80%9Cjoin%20with,acts%20of%20breaking%20and%20repair.
I love the thought “solutions to our brokenness can be beautiful in themselves.” So true! And thanks for being a part of my strong, supportive community. Now, go get an x-ray!