Trusting Your Gut, Injury and Hope

Tim Hart
4 min readFeb 5, 2024

Sun glistens on the wall of the bedroom, a rare feat for this north-facing house which only gets short glimpses of sunshine throughout the winter.

My heart says one thing and my brain says another on this morning. Unusual for me. I can normally trust both to be aligned.

However, I’m back dancing with my ghosts.

Those same ones I thought I put away.

Those ones that I was sure I’d healed.

And maybe you can’t ever truly get rid of, the ghost of the hurt little boy or girl inside.

Yet I get up out of bed anyhow. Forcing myself into the world.

The sun shines in the sky, much like it does when it’s trying to taunt you with its warmth. Loose plans, to ski for the day, as after all that’s why we are nestled in the mountains. A powder day, sun and some beautiful friends.

Taking a few moments at the top of the mountain appreciating the view, a couple of pictures captured. A smile on my face, yet a longing dread pushing to the forefront of my life.

A run that we’ve done 100 times, a nice little jump, finally feeling good — thoughts absent from the constant roaming around my head. Free of everything else.

I hit another jump, this time upon landing on what looked like snow, which in fact was a sharky rock covered in a thin layer of snow. Forcing my skis to the sky, causing a crash, a loud pop and a whirlwind of moments. Sliding down the beautiful mountain, yet this time in a stretcher. In the back of an ambulance, heading to the hospital. Hit with morphine, fentanyl and pop. Back in, three hours later.

My third shoulder dislocation in 7 months.

The worst pain of my adulthood.

Another hit, another blow to a tough period.

I’d skied the previous day, terribly I might add. I felt off, somewhere else. I had a crash early that day too, rattling my confidence.

The question is always, should I go?

Which is to say, I’ve felt like everything is happening at once, all compiling into a giant ball. Surrounded by metal and sunk to the bottom of a river. An anchor. Stuck in a way that the river is unable to move it. The rocks keep passing with the force of the river, and instead of being freed, the giant ball keeps collecting rocks. Becoming one with the river.

I’ve gone between defeat, anger, frustration and simply sadness. To being hopeful and ready to tackle the world.

Yet the truth lies somewhere between. I’m struggling. And hopeful in other small moments.

I should preface this with, my shoulder is one of the struggles I’m battling. A loss of the path, purpose and self.

I’ve lost feeling. Numb to myself.

All to say, I am working towards a better version of myself and a different path, whatever that may be. I’m choosing to share, because after speaking to a friend this week going through a similar thing — I discovered just how lonely the whole process is. Sharing the human condition with one person may be the thing someone needs. Originally blocked from writing altogether, a chat, coffee and vulnerability opened up the words you are currently reading.

I’ve never liked the notion of trusting the universe. Which is also to say, I’ve started too. A beautiful person taught me to lean into the universe. Not wanting to become Ted Mosby who trusted the universe and then got screwed by it. (Well really he got screwed by the writers of the show) If you know, you know.

A series of events led me to believe this. Because as Neck Deep famously once said. ‘Life’s Not Out To Get You.’ And I believe those words.

We are not what happens to us but how we choose to respond.

And through all ugly moments of suffering, there are lessons and silver linings.

I just want to take a moment to thank Annabelle and Dave. Friends that stood by me, and showed their kindness. Taking my gear down the hill, driving me home from the hospital and supporting the whole process.

Thanks to my partner who dealt with a large ugly part of myself over the past few weeks.

To those who found out and then reached out, very much appreciated.

The prognosis, after seeing the surgeon and my Physiotherapist I will not require surgery. I do however have one hell of a healing journey in front of me. The irony is my mantra for the year ‘Put the Work In.’

And as I overlook the beautiful mountains, we love. Even when we aren’t skiing on them. I realise how complicated the relationship between our intuition and our brains. You can Listen to your heart and gut. Trusting them completely. And there are times you will get it wrong, that’s being human.

Time to be a little kinder to ourselves.

Let the healing begin.

Love Tim xx

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Tim Hart

Australian, travelling and writing. Coffee addict and sad song loving enthusiast looking for the next adventure. Newsletter:https://substack.com/@timhartwriter