It’s All Mental


I’ve been hurt, injured since September of last year. Not gonna sugarcoat that shit. It sucked. It hurt. And part of me felt like there were some people who were happy that hard times had befallen upon me. More like on my right ankle. Currently hangin’ out in an Aircast. Roboyogi in full effect. No remote control.

I went from doing almost two gym classes a day to having to completely stop. A hundred miles an hour. Reduced to a turtle’s pace. I looked for answers. Asked God. Talked to my sister. Cried. Got angry. Rationalized. Tried to replace everything with hot yoga. Didn’t work. I need variety. Asked why repeatedly. Nada.

The people I expected to be there were not. My phone laid silent. My Instagram flow dwindled. Cats weren’t checking for me. Only if they were being tagged in a post. And that’s cool. Their reality. Not mine.

I got no special words for this moment. Or for the many that led up to this very one as I sit here on the side of my bed in my fave pajama pants from the GAP. Makes me wanna hang out in a cabin surrounded by snow and write all day. Small smile in. Like I was saying, no special words for this delicious occasion. Can’t let it eat away at me. Shit’s mental. It’s all mental.

Rock wit’ me daily on my road to recovery. I’ll be back on my longboard and jumping over steps in NTC soon enough. Ya’ dig.


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