Concerning old scars

We've all got them, haven't we? Often they come with a story. Like one on G's leg where he sliced himself open with a box cutter when we were working on the house in Hilo one summer, on the brink of an evening that we had dinner plans with some friends. Since he adamantly refused to lose the night sitting around in ER, we bandaged him up, stopped at a drugstore on the way to this other couple's house and bought some needle and thread, and I sewed him up, all pioneer-style, over a couple glasses of champagne. It's more difficult to run a needle through human skin than you might think. And his regular doctor, whom he saw later, was appalled, yet I'm proud to say she admitted that I had done a decent enough job. I should put that on my resume. Sklz: I haz them.

But some relics of old injuries aren't immediately visible. I mean, I'm imagining here things like mental scarring from childhood trauma, which might manifest itself eventually in peculiar behavior.

I think I'm carrying around a version of old scarring from an injury years and years and years ago when I was t-boned in a car accident that fractured my pelvis. Broken pelvis. Can't cast it up. That was one dreary winter! Lots of laying around, learning things like how to cross-stitch so I wouldn't lose my mind, taking a side-trip into unintended dehydration, and, after I came back to life, hobbling around with crutches very, very, VERY carefully on the wet and slippery sidewalks of campus when I returned to college. That healing process seemed to take forever, and it can still set my teeth on edge to think back to times when I'd take a misstep and could feel deep down inside the disturbing sensation of raw bone edges shifting just ever so slightly. Eggghhhhh! !!eleventy!!!!!

I think my body still thinks it needs to protect my pelvis. It's not something I've paid much mind in the everyday walking/sitting/standing scheme of things. But it is something that's occurred to me this year as I've put more intention into having yoga as part of my life, where there are all these delicious hip-opening asanas that I'd just love to breathe and melt down into, and I envision all the terrific energy there just waiting to be tapped even though I'm not quite sure I believe in that stuff but I like to think about it anyway.

this would be so nice!
But I get a fraction of the way, and get stuck. So I talk kindly, in my inside-my-head voice, to the body and tell it that it's okay to soften up and go there. And I can laugh about it, as I crack Julianne up when she tries to adjust me in warrior 2 ("no, you're still moving your torso: move your >hip
Sigh. But I know that's not the right attitude, and that kind of thinking would probably just make matters worse. And who knows, maybe I am making incremental progress, and I need to take this as a lesson in patience. But I'd like to just put it out there to the universe, and ask for it, if it would be so kind, to help send this awareness to my body. Dear hips: I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I think you're trying to do me a favor, but really, now, it's time to just let that go, please, and let yourselves have a little fun.