I was with my dear friend Peggy, who had met me in Los Angeles to celebrate my 56th birthday. We were hanging out on Venice Beach after visiting an amazing art exhibit and planned to go to dinner and an improv show that night. The universe had other plans for me.

“I was lying in the sand with large waves enveloping me. I couldn’t stand and began crawling across the sand, screaming for help.”

The pain struck like a lightning bolt from my buttock down my entire right leg as I tried to lift my foot (that was buried in sand) and a large wave hit me. As I felt that pain race down my leg, I looked toward the horizon, and the sun’s intensity pierced my eyes. Suddenly, I was lying in the sand with large waves enveloping me. I couldn’t stand and began crawling across the sand, screaming for help.

Some bystanders came to lift me out of the water, and soon the lifeguards arrived as well. The pain was intense, and I cried and screamed as the lifeguards carried me to their vehicle. They asked me questions about medications, took my blood pressure, and examined me. They determined there was no break and said it might just be muscular. The day was definitely not going as planned.

The lifeguards asked if I wanted the paramedics to take me to the ER, and I declined. I didn’t want to spend my birthday night in a Los Angeles ER. I couldn’t walk, so the lifeguard drove us to my car. Peggy drove us back to the hotel, where I hopped to the room in excruciating pain. Every time I transitioned from sitting to standing, or vice versa, my hamstring would spasm and the lightning-bolt pain would return. I began losing hope that it was just a muscular strain. Luckily, the hotel had plenty of ice. The next morning I realized I was unable to drive, so I hired a tow truck driver and rode with him to my home 160 miles away. 

A few days later, I had an MRI that revealed I tore my hamstring from my sit bone. The doctor said that if I didn’t have surgery, I would have 50% less strength in my right leg for the rest of my life. I was referred to a sports medicine surgeon in Southern California, three and a half hours south of my home.

When the injury occurred, I was in the midst of recovering from a five-month clinical depressive episode. I was improving, but still didn’t feel like myself. The physical pain of my hamstring injury suddenly snapped me into the present moment. My resilience kicked in and the depressive thought loops and anxiety dissipated.

“The physical pain of my hamstring injury suddenly snapped me into the present moment.”

I faced many tasks, such as the logistics of scheduling appointments and the surgery, as well as obtaining medical clearance, which included a chest X-ray and lab work. I also needed to prepare my home for after surgery. I am single, live alone, and want to function as independently as possible. So, I ordered a shower chair and a raised toilet seat and had a grab bar installed in my shower. 

The surgery was successful. I was able to walk slowly and with a limp within a day of surgery, but only very short distances. My recovery has been going much better than I anticipated, but it has radically altered my daily life. I’m unable to use one of my main coping tools, exercise, to regulate my nervous system. I typically walk, hike, or swim every day, and the inability to engage in these activities is very challenging.

I’ve come to believe the hamstring tear and this recovery time is a message from the universe to slow down and heal, both mentally and physically. I’m leaning on writing, art making, reading, breath work, physical therapy, psychotherapy, time in nature, close friends, meditation, and music to soothe myself and to heal both my hamstring and my mental health. After all, it’s all connected.

“I’ve come to believe the hamstring tear and this recovery time is a message from the universe to slow down and heal, both mentally and physically.”

My mental health declined earlier this year after experiencing major upheavals in my life. I left my toxic special education teaching profession, went through a breakup, and experienced some strained relationships. And in the aftermath, I was left in a liminal space, wondering: What is my purpose? What is my next step? How do I find my path?

My sense of security and safety was compromised. My life became unrecognizable, and sometimes when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t know who I was. I sank into anxiety and depression, something I’ve dealt with since childhood.

Finding ways to cope with my mental health has been the biggest challenge of my life. I’ve participated in several mental health interventions, including taking an antidepressant, EMDR, cognitive behavioral therapy, Gestalt therapy, somatic therapy, and guided meditation and mindfulness classes. 

This year I began new interventions to help me cope with the mental distress I was experiencing while living in a liminal space: Conscious connective breathwork and Spravato.

“Finding ways to cope with my mental health has been the biggest challenge of my life.”

Spravato is a nasal spray containing esketamine that increases glutamate levels, activating the formation of new neural pathways, which creates an antidepressant effect. The treatment is done in a medical clinic, where I administer the nasal spray and then relax on a comfortable recliner for two hours under medical supervision. 

Before beginning the treatment, I always set an intention and write it in a journal. During treatment, I do have some “psychedelic” experiences, such as seeing colorful images like a beautiful coastline or colorful geometric shapes, and I feel the sensations of floating or sliding. As soon as treatment ends, I write about the treatment experience in my journal. I began the treatment in June, and I believe it assisted in helping me cope with my injury and properly advocate for myself regarding my health care. 

I began the conscious connective breathwork, a technique where you engage in diaphragmatic breathing with no pauses between the inhalation and the exhalation, with my somatic therapist in April. Conscious connective breathwork lowers cortisol and increases prolactin to help modulate stress. You can experience an altered state of consciousness during the breathwork session, which allows you to release and process trauma.

I was skeptical when I first began this practice, but during the first session, tears poured from my eyes, and I felt a release. Over the last six months of participating in conscious connective breathwork sessions, my breath has become deeper, and it’s allowed me to dive more deeply into myself and connect my body and mind in a unique and powerful way.

“I am surrendering to the fact that healing and transformation arrive with time, discipline and self-compassion.”

My hamstring injury has also allowed me to connect with my body in a very tangible way. The physical pain overtook the mental and emotional struggle of living through this time in my life.

My surgery was six weeks ago, and I still experience some pain and soreness. I began physical therapy during the third week of my recovery, and the exercises are challenging. I’m making good progress, but I’m still unable to go on a fitness walk or swim laps, which is frustrating. But, I am surrendering to the fact that healing and transformation arrive with time, discipline, and self-compassion.

I am no longer fretting about my purpose because now my focus is on healing, both physically and mentally. I still have moments of anxiety and worry, but they no longer overwhelm me. I’m leaning into the present moment, and my priority is tending to my overall health and wellness, and that’s enough for right now.

Stefanie Vallejo Monahan is a special education teacher in San Luis Obispo County, CA. She has a BA in Journalism and a MA in Special Education. She enjoys spending time in nature, travel, organic foods and creative endeavors. She is the proud aunt of 6 nieces and 3 nephews.