I will be brief. Reinjured right ankle last Sunday. Limped past Monday. No yoga or gym classes in between. A short walking boot and a pair of steel fly crutches cue my true superhero’s theme.
X-rays. MRI. You haven’t lived until you think you’re gonna die. Which is how I felt the first time I injured my ankle. I viewed it as a setback. I whined about losing a year’s worth of clean eating and daily workout habits. I cried many nights as I watched my toned physical appearance soften. There’s more. But geez haven’t we already seen this movie? And scene.
So I’m hurt again. So what. Not trying to find a rainbow to shove up your ass to convince you of the ever elusive pot of gold. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I will miss being active. No, I didn’t cry. No, I will not complain. No one’s listening anyway. Might as well save my voice for the real stage baby because this ain’t it. I believe in myself so much as a writer and a person who inspires that I don’t need a cosign.
Yesterday, was hectic as hell. Spent all day at a hospital that doesn’t see patients. My patience was tested. Over and over again. Then suddenly it stopped. All of the mind chatter.
Got the diagnosis. A not so fashionable boot. Then swung through the halls on my grey legs. Headed out the door to a new sun. Leaving behind fear, doubt, and expectation. In all areas of my life. Fly Shon. Fly. It is impossible for you not too.