Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, an event hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!
Today is Day 30 of the writing challenge, and it is also Day 32 of my healing challenge. I've accepted the fact that the two are phenomenally intertwined. Even though I am keeping up with daily videos and notes about my knee progress-- that was how I was trying to compartmentalize slicing and healing-- this damn knee keeps showing up in slices.
But I had a moment of bringing many aspects together this week. Stay with me. I think I can make this make sense, but I'm using writing to process an idea right now. Over the last several months, I've been working on a book about the foundational skills of writing-- those skills and strengths that have to be in place or on the way to being in place for writers to have meaningful access to their writing process. Core strength to sit up, fine motor skills to make lines and curves, handwriting skills, spelling, sentence structure, oral language, and the metacognitive power to direct all of it-- and then start generating ideas, planning, drafting... What a feat writing is.
As I've been healing-- Heal is my OLW for 2025, and a perfect one so far-- I've been paying attention to the work my brain has to do to accomplish basic tasks. For the first couple of weeks, I couldn't remember or make myself lift my leg. I'd lie there and will my left leg to move. Will my left quad to contract. Will that heel to get off the bed-- just a little. I'd lift and lower my right leg almost like a coach. C'mon lefty, this is what it should look like. Still, getting through those two sets of twenty leg lifts was a major accomplishment. I know that I closed my eyes and maybe even legit-napped after some of those early sessions. Now, thirty-two days later, leg lifts have regained automaticity, but I talk myself up and down the stairs, using verbalization to remind myself how to place that left foot ahead, contract, and balance to move that right one behind it. On about day twenty, I stood in front of an escalator, and I had to watch Clare navigate it in front of me in order to remember how to do it.
I've known that healing is exhausting and zaps energy, but until now, I haven't thought about how part of the reason for the energy zap encompasses the amount of cognitive energy that regaining automaticity consumes. Walking is a very different activity when you have to think about and direct what part of your foot hits the floor first, how your leg should bend and straighten during which part of the process, and how high your foot should come up from the floor. All of those thoughts make a walk across the kitchen a significant effort. There's something about this that relates to the writing process. It's a very different process if you have to think about holding yourself up, manipulating your fingers, forming the letters, and spelling the words... I'd like to believe that I've always celebrated young writers and all they are pulling together, but I think that losing and having to regain my automaticity in activities as basic as lifting my leg gives my greater appreciation and awe.
If you're still reading, Fran Haley's post this morning is a lovely thank you to the slicing community. There are so many reasons to write, so much insight, so many connections. Without sounding corny or overly dramatic, her post is a beacon for the importance of empowering every young writer with the automaticity they need to write with humor, sorrow, courage, encouragement, belief in themselves and in others... her words, but in a different format.
This rambling, unplanned, post has brought me to how, like Fran, I'm grateful for writing and this community and the ability to be a part of it.
Melanie, I'm going to read Fran's post now - - I, too, am so grateful for the strength and encouragement found in my writing communities. There is nothing like a writer for seeing all the facets of life and making us think in ways that our talking communities can't do for all the noise of self. I'm so glad you're healing.....and feeling the power of the positive vibes coming your way! Thanks for making this community possible.
ReplyDeleteThis post is such a thoughtful reminder of the complexity of tasks that, as we learn to do them and they become automatic, we have trouble breaking down into all the parts we had to learn and manage as beginners. I really appreciate that reminder about the cognitive energy required to manage and regulate the writing process--it's so easy to forget that and not to provide adequate space, time, recovery for those woh are still building their stamina. What a helpful word your OLW has turned out to be this year.
ReplyDeleteI’m glad you took time to what may have felt like rambling to you. I find reflections like this on all the small parts of a task, be it walking or writing inspiring. Also good to be reminded of OLW and see how well HEAL is working for you. Mine is BLOOM and it is working for me too! My husband is having back surgery in May and I’ll tuck this away for him to read once his physical therapy begins. A huge thank you for all you did to run this challenge this March while also healing! You are a gift to me! I appreciate you so much!!
ReplyDeleteI'm heading to Fran's post, too, but your comparison and acknowledgement, "What a feat writing is," is worth repeating over and over. Your experience recovering made you humble and grateful. (I'm sure you already were, but...). Now you have thought-through-writing to a place that you can share with others and give them a deeper perspective. I'm one of them.May that OWL keep doing its job! Thanks!
ReplyDeleteThis makes perfect sense! Learning how to do something so complex as writing and walking is HARD! As you point out here, young writers often leave me in awe with their ideas, pictures, words and ability to always learn and try even when things are hard! You, also, are one to admire - you're healing, learning, relearning and writing all about it! Thanks for being you, Melanie! -- dawn
ReplyDeleteMelanie, I loved reading your post and how you connect your knee healing process with the writing process. I had read Fran's post today, and I think writing must be celebrated for students to be motivated to continue to do so. I enjoyed having my kids choose a day near the end of the semester to have an open mic, but now that I'm retired. I wish I would have done more of this. Of course, people read aloud pieces when they chose, but I wish I would have thought of various ways for them to experience a "party" like atmosphere to appreciate each other's voices. Thanks for writing such a provocative and lovely post.
ReplyDeleteStay with me. I did! I can't believe I hadn't thought more about how your book and your knee are related. How do we read. How do we walk. How do we ... lift a knee. It's all so second nature until it's not. And then it will be again :)
ReplyDeleteI appreciate how you have articulated all that goes into building automaticity and the cognitive load until one gets to that point. I have more to think about as I watch and work with students this week!
ReplyDeleteMelanie, what a powerful analogy you make between regaining automaticity of the use of your leg and how hard it is to not have it more natural and in your muscle memory. The idea of students need to have automaticity as writers to be able to reach their audiences is powerful. We know when it's automatic, it's just less exhausting! So here's to full recovery for you and success for all our students!
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