The ability to question, to reason, is what sets us apart from other inhabitants of our planet.  It is a blessing, and a curse.  It can drive us forward, and it can hold us back.  It can expand our horizons and send us into ever decreasing circles.  As a therapist, it is one of the questions that I hear most in the counselling room.  Why?  Why has this happened?  Why has this happened, now?  Why me?  Why, why, why?  It is a question of some torture, because sometimes answers are hard to come by.  What, when, where… these are easier ones to grab hold of.  How sometimes remains a mystery, but why is the stuff of anguish.

How many times have you thought ‘why has this happened?’.  I know it’s a question that’s battered my consciousness from time to time.  Recently quite a lot.  I have sustained an acute injury to my left knee, a tear of the medial collateral ligament (I didn’t realise I had any until a few weeks ago), which has rendered me pretty immobile, and in considerable discomfort.  In the days after the fluke accident, when it didn’t settle with the “RICE” process, I got increasingly frustrated.  ‘Why has this happened?’  I kept on asking.  ‘What is the purpose of this?’  For it is my belief that things happen for a reason.  I’m not much closer to understanding why, but I am less frustrated, because of the process of my thoughts and the passage of time.

I have learned that a torn ligament will take longer than a broken bone to mend.  If I want to recover well, I have to rest as well as stimulate (under the guidance of a wonderful physiotherapist) my knee.  I need to allow up to three months for recovery, at the end of which, I should have a fully functioning knee.  In understanding all of this, I’ve got to a place of acceptance.  I’m still wondering why, but not from a place of agitation.  Perhaps I will never know why, perhaps I will.   For now, I must wait.