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.
