Stilettos.. The very word gives me instant thoughts of city streets, late night dancing and bedroom fun! When I say I am obsessed, I mean I would have given my first born for a pair of designer beauties. Christian Louboutin to be exact. I love stiletto designers in this order: Louboutin, Blahnik and Choo. These are my guys. These are, I feel, all a girl really needs to bother with! The rest are just space holders; though sometimes the budget requires space holder joy. The giving of my first born did not have to occur, I am happy to report, thanks to hubs and a lunch hour run to hit a deal. And this is good because A) My first born is quite handsome and B) His twin would have killed me!
My husband and I got together over stilettos. I'm talking like, seriously, we would not have gone on that first date had it not been for my posting a pic, on a ancient social media site, of my brand new "Guess" 5 inch, Red patent beauties I had just purchased and him commenting with some flirty "I got the moves" statement.
Since I was a child, I have been obsessed with fashion, but more importantly,
shoes stilettos. I remember sitting in my mothers closet for hours just trying them on and posing in the mirror. Her closet was my candy store. The colors, the shapes, the heights, the points, the openness. I loved matching outfits around the stilettos I wore, an act that followed me into adulthood. Even when I was 7 months pregnant with twins, I wore stilettos! That, my friends, is commitment!
So now we moved to the future that is today. My reality of barely walking without any shoes, let alone those mile high beauties. I remember going from the hospital to inpatient rehab after my spinal cord injury. My poor hubs had to go get me clothes and shoes. I opened the suitcase with all my new goodies, I just knew a spinal cord injury had earned a new pair of fabulous stilettos (I was in a wheelchair for gods sake), and there my friends they were. The saddest, shapeless, scariest shoes I had ever seen... Plain Black Flats! I cried my eyes out! What was I suppose to do with these? What.. What.. WHAT?! NOOOOOOO!!!!! Now I know hubs was only doing what he knew needed to be done. I know that he knew I would tire of gym shoes all the time and would need to change it up, but had I really been reduced to this? Yes. Yes I had. I was now (gulp) a flat wearer.
When one goes to inpatient rehab for a spinal cord injury, they tell the family that they need to leave for a while. There is no real time limit, but they want a few days for the patient to adjust. They want to work with the patient and have the patient learn to be independent. I will never forget hubs leaving. It took him 2 hours from the first goodbye to actually walk out the door of my room. He would tell me he loved me, kiss me and take a few steps. I would start to cry and say, "Please don't leave me", and he would rush back to my side and hold me in his arms. I know this must have killed him. My heart was breaking inside, I can't imagine what he was going through. That first night at rehab, after getting myself into bed from my wheelchair to prove I didn't need this place, I cried myself to sleep. I would dream for an hour or so, about cute shoes on my working feet, and then wake myself up crying. It was awful. I called hubs several times that night and he was always there to take my calls. He would lull me back to sleep and the process would start all over again.
That first day with Sandy, my physical therapist, was actually quite amazing. She asked me what my 2 goals were, I responded to do ballet again and walk down the street in my stilettos. Sandy laughed. She didn't laugh at me, she laughed with me, because at therapy, laughter is the best medicine. Sandy told me that we better get started and she began with tapping the tops of my thighs. She asked me to keep count like I would if I was dancing, and that is what we did.. For an entire 2 hours. Sandy explained to me that the tapping was doing one thing, muscle memory. She explained that her and I together had to make my brain remember that there is something below my waist and it wants to work. I went back to my room and looked at those sad sad black flats again. I tucked them under my clothes in my suitcase and went back to bed. I didn't eat that day, but I did sleep. I cried too, but mostly because I missed my family. I missed my kiddos and I missed hubs. I wanted to go home. The next day was therapy again and this time we did muscle memory and harness. The harness was to get my brain to remember that I needed to stand. The harness was "my legs" if you will. I was humiliated and wanted to hide under a rock. If I could have ran from that place I would have. Then comes my comedian in the form of my Occupational Therapist, Eric. Eric was tall with dark hair and goofy as hell. He looked at me down in my wheelchair and said, "What have you not gotten today that you really want?" I said, "Besides working legs?" He nodded and I told him I would kill for a real cup of coffee. He said he knew just the place and off we went. He took me through winding hallways and up ramps. Before starting, Eric had told me that if I wheeled myself halfway, he could guarantee he would do the rest and that at the end would be the best coffee I had ever had. "Wheel myself?", I thought, "Oh I can totally do that"! I made it to the halfway point and kept going. By the time we hit the coffee shop, I was exhausted, but I had proven to him that I got this in the bag! I enjoyed my real cup of coffee and we headed back. Halfway back, I couldn't go any further, so Eric took control and we went back to the gym. Eric told me he would see me tomorrow and as I turned to leave he yelled, GREAT JOB ROCKY! I laughed for the first time since this whole thing started, and I also had a thought. When I got to my room, I pulled out those sad black flats again. I thought, maybe tomorrow, I will just try them on. And tucked them away again.
Then next morning I had a full schedule. 3 hours of therapy starting at 7:30am, Pet therapy at 11am and then therapy again for 2 hours at 3pm. "What the hell do these people think I am", I thought. "Don't they know I just had a life altering injury?" I got out of bed, by myself, at 5am and hopped to it. I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, flat ironed my hair and put on my makeup. I then went back to that suitcase and was determined to look cute! I grabbed a pair of leggings and a cute top and cardi. I struggled for over an hour getting those damn leggings on, but I was determined to not let those people know I needed help! After catching my breath from doing the "Legging Shuffle", I looked at those sad black flats again.I thought, "Its now or never", and I grabbed them and put them on my lifeless feet. I looked in the mirror and finally, for the first time since this happened, I felt a little bit like me!
Its been months since I have been home from rehab. All of my "beauties" are in their boxes at the top of my closet, with the exception of a few, of course. They have all been replaced with flats that are both functional and, dare I say, cute. I still hold on to the hope that I will wear my stilettos again one day, but for now, I am okay with their replacements.
After spending 58 days inside my house with the curtains drawn, I finally took a few steps outdoors. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was never one for caring much what people thought, but that changes when you are no longer what you use to be. People stare and make faces that pity you when you are lower than them or using equipment that they do not use. I now look back at those people and pity them. They have no idea how sad they look.I got my chance to reevaluate life and start over, they haven't. Though I wouldn't wish this on anyone, I would wish upon them the moment that they have to stop and evaluate what is important in life.
I have grown a lot since this journey began. I don't cry over what use to be much anymore. I have grieved for my past life and, for the most part, look forward to what may come in the future. I would have to say that those that truly loved me are still around. Those that left, though it saddened me, didn't deserve me in the first place. It is just what happens when a tragedy to this degree occurs. Some people can not handle change, and that includes walking in another persons shoes, no matter what those shoes look like.
-House Shoe Fashionista
PS: I have to admit that, occasionally, I do slip on my stilettos and spend the day in them while laying on the couch or in bed. Hey, you can't take everything out of the girl :)
