I am currently suffering from a minor case of a writer’s worst nightmare, that is, tendonitis of the wrist. I experienced my first bout during my sophomore year of college. With the help of an ergonomic keyboard and an awkward tan-colored wrist brace, the fatigue cleared up after a few months and the remainder of college was trouble-free in the wrist department. However, the tendonitis has returned in the past year, particularly in the past few months. Since then, I have been searching for the precise causes 0f this new round of wrist fatigue.
My search has led me to many causes, but one bottom line: Habits. Bad ones. For example, I find myself doing about 98% of my typing on my laptop keyboard–a notoriously dangerous workstation for one’s wrists. What’s more, I tend to write on said keyboard in bed, slouched against my headboard and a stack of pillows. This is also a major ergonomic no-no. And finally, I hold a pencil incorrectly, with four fingers instead of three. Since my handwriting load is currently much greater due to my summer German course, I’m convinced that the bad pencil-holding habit I formed in Kindergarten is now coming back to haunt me.
So, I’m trying to correct my keyboard, posture, and handwriting habits. The latter is by far the most difficult. Every time I pick up a pencil I unthinkingly grip four fingers around the top. This is the way I have been doing it my whole life, and honestly, I would have probably died an old woman with a four-finger pencil grip had this wrist thing not flared up. I never thought of it as a bad thing, so I never took much note of it before. Even now, it is usually not until I feel a twinge of pain in my wrist that I realize my bad habit and correct it with that darn, uncomfortable three-finger grip.
Today a precious friend confessed that I have a few bad habits in our relationship. These are significant things, too–things that hurt his feelings. After my friend gently provided a few examples of these mishaps, I (naturally) started to tear up. Firstly, I was so regretful to have hurt my friend in general. And secondly, as he cited a few examples, a series of additional examples of related incidents raced through my mind. I really did have these bad habits that he was pointing out, and I was completely oblivious to them and their impact on my friend until that moment. My watery eyes turned into apologetic sobs, and my friend generously offered comfort, forgiveness, and the reassurance of his loyalty to our friendship.
I was deeply sad, and rather embarrassed by my actions. I even thought to myself, “Is this who I have become? A person who makes her dearest friends feel like this?” Yet even as my bad habits brought dismay, I experienced a strange sense of relief with the news of my tendencies. “At least I see them now.” I thought to myself. “At least I recognize them so I can fix them.” Had this friend not had the courage and care to point them out to me, they could have quietly worn away at our friendship, and my character, without any sort of awareness on my part.
My old habits need a loyal friend like mine. Otherwise, it is simply so easy for me to overlook them. To take my actions for granted. The pain that my friend experiences as a result of my habitual carelessness is sort of like the pain I feel in my wrist these days. It is an unfortunate reminder that I need to change my old ways. With each patient reminder that my actions have negative consequences, I am aware of them myself, and I am increasingly motivated to change them for the better.
So, for my tendonitis: a tacky brace. For my friendship mishaps: a graceful, honest companion.
