- I started working freelance as a camera operator for high school football at a TV station back in South Carolina. It was super convenient to all my marching band stuff and, since I was already driving in for practice on Thursdays, going to class on Fridays, and staying for competitions on Saturdays before driving back for work on Sundays, it made sense to make some extra money to pay for the trips. So I ran camera on Friday nights. And I loved it!
- I wanted to keep doing that work; The guys I worked with (I was literally the only female on crew) convinced me to apply for an open job at the station. So I did. And I interviewed. On the phone. Then in person. Then I got the rejection email. No big deal. I was still slated to work freelance with them. Plus I had gotten a few other freelance gigs from those guys. So I was still able to do work that I was passionate about.
- I went on a "girls vacation" with my mom, my aunt, and my older cousin (not the one from my previous posts). Mom and I got to the beach house first. My aunt and cousin were meeting us there the next day. Early the next morning (and by early, I mean sunrise -- the women in my family don't sleep very much, so we see a lot of sunrises), mom and I are enjoying coffee while waiting for my aunt (she doesn't live far away, so she's expected to arrive by 9ish). I check my email on a whim and the General Manager of the TV station in the above bullet point emailed me to have me call him. Which I did. Approximately 8 minutes after he emailed me. He had talked with the powers that be, and another position just like the one I had applied for had been created and he offered it to me, if I was "still interested". I accepted it on the spot. Needless to say, there were mimosas the second my aunt got to the house - literally as soon as she got there....we didn't even have a chance to unload her car before my mom spilled the beans and grabbed the champagne she knew my aunt had in the cooler for later that night ('cause we're classy and drink champagne for no reason other than we like it). My husband was less than pleased when I called and told him the news. He knew I'd applied for the job. He didn't think I'd get it. Looking back, I think he was glad I was rejected for the job. It's not that he wanted me to fail. He just liked the way things were. I don't fault him for being comfortable and not wanting things to change.
- I moved back to South Carolina and started the new job within two weeks of coming back from vacation. I never even hesitated. This was meant to be. I could feel it. Because it was so quick, my parents offered to let me stay with them until other arrangements could be made - an arrangement I will forever be grateful for! Kids, be grateful for what your parents do for you. Be gracious when they offer help. Accept their help, but be sure that they know how grateful you are. This is precious time you have with them.
- Things are going ok for a while. I loved my job - I was creative and it was encouraged. I was weird and quirky and it was celebrated. I had finally found my tribe, my people; The ones that thought like me and understood me. I created a bunch of commercials (that got exponentially better with time), I got to continue running camera for an increasing number of live events, and I was able to still teach Colorguard and add Winterguard to my band repertoire.
- Six months in and my knee gives out on me again. I've had problems with my knee for as long as I can remember. I dislocated my kneecap when I was 20 (that's a story for another day) and had been in and out of a brace since then (I have a startling collection of old, worn-out knee braces...it's kind of embarrassing). So my knee gives out at the beginning of football/marching band season. Thankfully, one of the guys working in our sports department at the TV station had some connections and was able to get me in to see a really good knee specialist (for any USC Gamecock fans, you've all seen him and his work -- he fixed Marcus Lattimore's knee after what was termed a "career ending injury". Legit, go google his injury. It's brutal! But this doctor was able to not just repair his knee; This doctor gave him his career back -- Marcus Lattimore went on to play for the 49ers before returning to the Gamecocks on their staff. But I digress....). This specialist realized something no other doctor noticed before -- turns out I'm slightly bow-legged and one of my legs was shorter than the other while I was growing (they've apparently evened themselves out now...?) and somehow all of this caused my kneecaps to not actually sit in the groove they're supposed to. Which is apparently why it was so easy for me to dislocate my knee a decade prior. So he scheduled me for surgery to fix my kneecap. Mostly so I wouldn't have to rely on knee braces for the rest of my life, but also to try to alleviate the constant pain I've learned to accept as a fact of life (trust....I have a stupid high pain tolerance. Many medical professionals have vocalized their astonishment at my ability to carry on in the face of pain that would bring down a large buffalo. I'm also quite stubborn which could be part of it.....)
- I manage to make it through the entire football/marching band season and through the teaching phase for the winterguard season before I've scheduled my surgery - I've planned it for the week prior to competitions, cause that's clearly enough time to recover from major surgery (I am sometimes not a smart person. I am also quite stubborn, in case I glossed over that fact earlier. Like, stupidly stubborn.) I took the day off for my surgery, was in the hospital overnight but released early Saturday, made it home in enough time to get dressed and head to an awards show that my department had submitted work in. Then back to my retail job on Sunday and back to work at the station on Monday. (Did I mention I'm stubborn?) For anyone curious, I had two procedures in one -- I had a lateral release where the doctor cut ligaments on the outside of my knee so they would no longer pull my kneecap out of alignment, since this seems to have caused my knee to go out on me so many times since I dislocated it the first time (I apparently ripped a large amount of ligaments and such on the inside of my knee all those years ago and nothing was done to repair the damage. Because....stubborn....). The doctor also did an osteotomy, something I had never heard of before. Basically, from my understanding, the doctor cut my shin where the ligaments that run over the kneecap and hold it in place meet the bone. He then shimmied that piece of bone over a bit so that my kneecap will line up perfectly with the groove in which it is supposed to live, and screws that piece of bone back to my shin. When I went to physical therapy after the procedure, my therapists told me they'd studied the therapies for the procedure I'd had done, but I was the first patient they'd actually seen that had undergone that procedure. From what I'm told, most people opt for a total knee replacement because that's easier to heal from and the therapy isn't as intense as what you get from an osteotomy. Well, the intense therapy is only part of it; the thing that really got me was the emotional impact. I wasn't ready for that. I don't think anyone could've been.
- I had a rough time balancing my two jobs (TV station job and retail job) as well as teaching winterguard - I was working 80+ hours a week on an easy week. I was doing physical therapy 3 times a week. I wasn't allowed to drive because my surgery was on my "driving" leg - I couldn't bend my knee for the longest time. None of that broke me. The realization that I may never dance again or be able to continue teaching marching band and winterguard did. I've been dancing longer than I can remember. And guard has been in my blood in since high school - literally half my life. Even now, almost three years later (it'll be three years next month since my surgery), I still feel those feelings and I still hear those thoughts. The despair of not returning to things that have brought me joy and that have been my solace in times of despair. The fear that that part of me is lost forever. It was too much for me. I lost all faith in the process, for the first time in my life. I felt hopeless. I crumpled to the floor and sobbed for all I had lost, because it felt like I had lost a large part of me. I felt like my body had betrayed me. And my husband was tired of me moping. He told me to "stop being so overdramatic". That was when I knew I needed to be there for me, because if my own husband couldn't be there for me, who could? Thankfully, I have wonderful friends who have become very close framily (friend + family = framily) and they helped me through the dark times. I owe them everything, and I will never be able to repay the debt.
- I asked for a separation two and a half months after my surgery. Sometimes when you go through difficult times, it can bring you closer. Sometimes, it shows you that you aren't where you're supposed to be. We divorced 16 months later; In South Carolina, you need to be legally separated in separate residences for one full year before you can file for a divorce. Then, and only then, can divorce proceedings begin, which can sometimes be a lengthy process. I need to be very clear on this - my husband was not and is not a bad person. He was not a bad husband. He was just not the right person for me. I realize that. I am very strong and stubborn and hard to deal with sometimes (a lot of the time). And I was not the right person for him either. It was better, as I saw it, to let him go find his person. And to let me go find mine. I can only hope that the bitterness with which we parted leaves him; he is a fun, genuine, kind soul, and I will probably always feel sad for the darkness he's endured at my hand.
Fast forward to now. Sorry the Cliffnotes™ weren't as short as I'd expected. It turns out a lot really has happened. I have moved to a different department at the TV station - I work in news now. It's not what I dreamed I'd be doing at this point in my life. But it's a challenge that I will continue to meet head on with each new day. I have also found my person; He held my hand and was steadfast by my side a few months ago when I had to say goodbye to my wonderful cat of 15 years after she suffered a short battle with renal disease. He's challenged me to become better not just professionally, but personally - he supports my work with marching band and winterguard and pushes me to make each year and each show better. The winterguard show I'm currently working on is to help bring awareness to mental health and suicide prevention. He encourages me to do the impossible; He helps make the impossible, possible. He's a partner to me, and I hope to be as good a partner to him as we continue on this journey called life.
