Woe is me

Well my New Year New Me goals have already taken a turn for the worse… Rather than stop self sabotaging I have instead taken self-sabotage to a new level. I am so intensely disappointed in myself that I am emotionally numb.

I have managed to hurt my ankle and it was completely self-inflicted and stupid. You see I knew that the increasing pain I was getting in my ankle while running was a warning sign. I KNEW that I should stop and rest for a day or two or at least reduce the speed I was running at or the distance I was going. I KNEW that I was at high risk for stress fractures. *face palm*

 But that eating disorder voice in my brain that has been slowly reduced to a nagging whisper over the last year or so, beaten into submission only by strict routine daily treadmill use, that voice became suddenly louder at the thought of potentially ‘missing a day’ and the somewhat encouraging ‘no pain, no gain’ mentality quickly became “just push past it you fat, lazy, pathetic whinging bitch!”

Of course I listened, I clenched my jaw and I ran, I ran until tears streamed down my face and my foot finally made the decision for me. In that second as my ankle gave way with a searing burn, I knew it was all over.

Images flashed in front of my face, I saw my reflection expand almost as quickly as my ankle swelled. A moment of stupidity and I had condemned myself to a lifetime of weight gain. That little fat kid from my past absorbed back into my body as I sat on the floor crying, images of all those school yard bullies dancing around my head laughing maniacally.

Since October 2015 I had missed a total of 4 days on the treadmill and each one of those was because I was away from home at the time and each time caused anxiety attacks and sleepless nights but at least I had been able to create an alternate form of exercise. I thought I was in control. Ha!

Now I am facing a minimum of 6 weeks unable to walk, let alone run. My New Year’s resolution of running the ‘Mother’s Day Classic’ fun run is dead. I am already the heaviest I have been in 5 years which has been unacceptable for my eating disorder and the thought of getting any bigger….          

    

I just can’t.

I can feel the cloud of depression setting in, I can’t stop randomly crying – mostly from the agony of losing control rather than the pain of the injury. I suppose at least there is a reason for depression this time, normally there is nothing.

When it happened, I didn’t want to go to the Emergancy department because I felt like it was self-inflicted and thus not an emergency, I didn’t want to be anymore of a waste of time. So instead I saw a GP that was open on the weekend and he gave me a referral for an X-ray and ultrasound at the local hospital for Monday.

The GP told me they would give me crutches and a walking boot / cast at the hospital, but when I went in they couldn’t do an Ultrasound until mid February so I would have to go private for that and the doctor who read the X-rays wasn’t in, so they just took the images and said a report would be sent to my doctor in 24hrs. No crutches, no walking boot, no answers. 

I rang up to book an appointment for the ultrasound and as the poor women I was speaking to gave me information about where to park, much to her bewilderment I started sobbing uncontrollably. I realised walking that distance would be nearly impossible without crutches and Hubby couldn’t help me because he was looking after the four kids.

I am heading off now for the ultrasound which should assess the ligament damage, with a bit of luck they can do something to speed up recovery and tell me where I can hire a pair of crutches. I am lucky at least because it is my left leg and I drive an automatic car so I can still drive. 

Yes I know that some people don’t even have legs, I know about the kids starving in Africa and I know I am pathetic and spoiled. I am sorry I am finding it so hard to be grateful but my mood is sinking fast and the life raft has drifted away.