FAMILY & FRIENDS (The obvious one)
We are both very thankful that we have the support system that we do. It was great for us to be around family and friends while we were growing up and during the first part of the year, and it felt good for us knowing that when we were in Europe, we had people here in the States thinking about us and reading our blog and generally missing us. But there has been no time when we were more grateful for the relationships we have with our friends and family than when we came back from Europe. We received sweet "welcome home!" texts from friends who don't normally show affection, we had friends around to feed us when we visited and to get us job interviews, and we had our loving parents who most graciously let us move back into their houses as we have not yet found a place of our own. If it hadn't been for this great support system we have, we would either be homeless and living on the streets, or we would be spending all our savings on a place to live before we got the rest of our lives back in the States figured out.
HEALTH
This might seem like a silly one coming from someone who is less than two weeks out of knee surgery - but it is one that I've thought a lot about lately, particularly because of knee surgery. Let me start by saying that knee surgery sucks, and I don't recommend it to anyone (unless you've blown out your knee too, and don't have any other choice). But from a physical standpoint, things could be a lot worse for me. I know people who have been in serious pain after surgery--I'm glad that's not me. I have always been quick to recover from minor injuries like sprained ankles and pulled muscles, and in 2007 when I had my other knee done, I didn't have any pain AT ALL. So I'm lucky, in that perspective. I am fortunate enough to have a healthy, well-oiled, working body that can take on trauma like blowing my knee out and getting it surgically fixed with little to no pain after a couple days.
I am also grateful for Steve's health (as I'm sure he is too). Four months of walking around Europe without may opportunities for high-intensity contact sports like soccer mean that Steve's lingering soccer injuries (ankles, knees, etc) have all more or less healed. From a non-injury standpoint, I am thankful that Steve and I hardly ever get sick. Sure, we've both caught colds and the like, but never anything that a full day of sleep and a lot of tea/chicken soup couldn't fix. Our immune systems are happily chugging along, keeping us safe from all the pathogens floating around in the air.
Most of all, I am thankful that it was me and not Steve who blew out their knee and had surgery and is gearing up for the long, slow process that is getting back to the soccer field in full fitness. I have been through this before. I know what it's like. I know what to expect. And no amount of hearing it from others will ever adequately prepare someone for what you have to go through when you have a serious injury like this. Steve has heard all the stories from me, and will be there to partake in this experience second-hand, but of all things this Thanksgiving, I am so thankful that he doesn't have to personally go through it. I love the game of soccer, especially now that I have no choice but to sit on the sidelines, but Steve LOVES soccer. He is OBSESSED with soccer. And I am glad that he doesn't have to give it up - the past four months in Europe was long enough for him. I haven't played soccer (the CouchSurfing picnic notwithstanding) in EIGHT MONTHS. And this is just the beginning - I am advised to stay away from contact sports for a full year before getting back (although I will admit that last time I signed up for soccer class at CPP after nine months) so that the allograft (cadaver tendon) that has replaced my ruptured ACL has time to full integrate itself with my bones and blood vessels and body in general. So even if it only takes nine months to play soccer again, I will be terrible because I will not have played in a year and a half. If it hadn't been for our whirlwind trip around Europe, I could have had surgery months ago. I could be back on the soccer field at the beginning of next year (assuming, of course, that the world doesn't end next month). But that isn't how things happened this time around, and I am just at the very beginning of this long, miserable journey. I am happy to report that I have taken a few shaky steps around the house without my crutches, but I am a long way from running around on a soccer field again. I remember, last time, there were a lot of tears and a lot of moments where I was scared to do things for fear of re-injuring myself. There were a lot of dark days, and I don't expect this time to be any different.
I am retrospectively thankful to my friend Brandon (aka B-Dizzle): when I was preparing for my return to the soccer field, I decided to put together an indoor soccer team with some people from the dorms to mark my debut. A friend mentioned that this guy, Brandon, from the second floor had heard what I was doing and wanted to join the team. I didn't know this guy, but after a silly first meeting, B-Deezy and I became friends. Of everyone I had met my first year of school, he was probably the one I best connected with because he was the first person I had met who loved the game like I did. He grew up playing club soccer, the works. Even better, at the end of his high school career, he suffered a back injury (slipped disk I think) that put him out for a while and required the occasional epidural (yes, the same epidurals you give pregnant women in labor) even now. So really, this indoor team I was putting together was as much his comeback as mine. And he was just as excited about it as I was. I had found someone who loved the game like I did, who was used to the same competitive level of play as I was, who had an idea of what I was going through with my injury, and who helped (re)make me a better player. He dragged me to the dorm gym in the mornings to get me back in shape; he would kick a soccer ball around with me in the evenings. He was there to talk to about my worries. And we stayed friends all throughout college, still playing indoor together (though with a completely different group of people than at the dorms), and so he was there to see me become the player that I was before I blew the crap out of my knee that first time - a better one, even. My comeback as a soccer player was very successful and largely in part thanks to BranMuffin's support (yes, this guy has a lot of nicknames). It would have been so much harder for me to go at it alone. Looking back at that time, especially since I'm sitting here this Thanksgiving just waiting to be at that point in the rehab process again, I need to give him a special thank-you. So, thank you, B, for bringing me back.
And I am preemptively thankful to my husband Steve, who I know will be there to do the same thing this time around (and maybe more, since he won't be able to escape to his dorm room like Brandon could :P ). I have a long journey ahead, and you will be there for all of it. Thank you, Steve, for your love and support - I know I will need it.
CHOICES/BEING A WOMAN IN THE UNITED STATES
Kind of going back to the knee surgery thing: when I blew my knee out the first time, it was during the last tournament of my competitive playing career and I was kind of burnt out anyway. I figured I would take some time off playing soccer anyway... But everything changed with that injury. I found out the hard way that there is a HUGE difference between not doing something because you don't feel like, and not doing something because you don't have a choice. Once that choice (of playing soccer) was taken away from me with injury and surgery and the long rehab process, there was nothing more in the world that I wanted to do than to play soccer again. Even though I had been at the point where I didn't want to. So really, the injury gave me the excuse to not play - so why did I all of a sudden change my mind? I changed my mind because that is what we as humans do, but how does it feel to change your mind and find that the other option is no longer an option anymore? (I'm sure a lot of people feel this way about the election and the coming months, but let's not get into that here.)
We have the ability to make choices, especially here in the United States, where we have so much of everything, from brands of milk to clothing stores to schools to occupations, from what instrument you want to play or language you want to learn or sport you want to play. I think a lot of the time, we take that ability to choose for granted. In some countries, you don't have that choice. You can choose to do what the government tells you, or you can choose to die, in some cases! When we were in Europe, when I mentioned that I was a soccer player, EVERY SINGLE PERSON we told was surprised. Surprised like, "Girls are encouraged to play sports in your country?" What? Encouraged? Almost every single one of my female friends is an athlete, or was at some point. It never occurred to me until this summer that not everyone thinks like that. In almost every single country we went to, women were encouraged to stick to the traditional roles: taking care of the home and family. Now, I don't think there is anything wrong with that--my own mother was a stay-at-home mom for a long time when we were growing up. I know that it isn't a walk in the park; if anything, it is harder than working - it's not a 40-hour-workweek kind of job. But that was the choice she made. She didn't fill that role because she had to or because she was expected to; she did it because SHE WANTED TO. And when my brother and I got older and more capable to taking care of ourselves, she went back to work, BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO. Because, in the United States, you are allowed to follow your dreams and do the things you choose to do. When I mentioned that I was a soccer player to the girls who run the Discover Football program (a German organization that spreads awareness of the sport to women in less-accepting countries, like in the Middle East and Africa), they were all surprised - until they learned that I was American. And then they were like, "Oh, okay, that makes more sense." It was an enlightening moment for me - to realize just what it meant to be a woman with an American citizenship as opposed to a woman in Poland or Ukraine or Slovakia or Croatia or any of these places. It meant I could be a female athlete if I chose; I could be a career woman if I chose; I could be a stay-at-home mom if I chose. I can be, as a woman in America, anything I wanted to be. And for that, I am thankful.
(Last of all) AUTUMN
Did any of you think you'd ever hear me say that: I am thankful for a season that isn't summer? Well, I am. Things have changed. I don't mind the chilly air and the rain anymore, now that I don't have to lug a heavy backpack around in the rain and attend two-hour class sessions in wet clothes anymore. It's refreshing, actually, after living for so long in southern California, to see seasons again. There is a big maple tree in my yard, right outside my window, and all day it has been chilly but sunny (no more of that heavy rain we'd had the past few days) and the fiery red and orange leaves have been blowing off the tree and floating around so prettily. It isn't summer anymore here, which means our summer vacation is officially over. But while we are house-hunting and job-hunting and studying for the CPA exam and working to get back on our feet (for me, that is literally a goal), autumn is a beautiful thing to look upon.
So there you have it, a few things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving. Steve says, when asked to name the first things that come to mind that he is thankful for, he says sunshine, me/Billy/family/friends, American craft beer, and comfy athletic clothing. Billy is thankful for pie.
Happy eating, everyone! Much love from us <3 data-blogger-escaped-br="br">
