Saturday, 30 January 2016
I fell off a cliff and my mind hurts
It's been almost two months since I fell off a cliff and smashed my heel into dust. Yes it hurt - like having molten metal burning you from the inside out, yes I lost my tan, yes I missed almost all my planned trip with people I really care for. All of that stuff fucking sucks balls (which actually isn't that bad) and made me cry and feel minging, but the worst thing by a thousand miles was when the pain subsided. Post surgery and back home in a boot: unable to get around, exercise, work, and unable to really socialise, I am losing my mind.
I am an active, outdoorsy person and in one moment of wrong footing I have had that all taken out from underneath me. I have had some very dark times since being back home, and it's hard to admit that because, although my injury is a nasty one, it's nothing compared to what many people have to endure. There is an embarrassment attached with admitting that I'm struggling, that I feel lost without a purpose, that I feel humiliated because I can't wash myself or get myself a drink.
I made it to the kitchen the other day and sat on the counter and made myself a cup of tea. It was exhausting but I felt such a sense of independence in doing something for myself, only to realise I couldn't carry my tea anywhere, because I'm non-weight bearing on crutches. I moved to sit on the floor with my tea and cried big, fat, sobbing, snotty tears. The simplest of things have been taken from me, and in that moment all the forced positivity just collapsed around me.
This injury may not be life threatening or disfiguring, but it has gotten to me and at times has made me feel like I'm going insane. It has made me irrational and irritable, made me feel helpless and empty and caused me to lose my sense of self.
The event of my fall, and subsequent injury was horrible and traumatic. And, two months on I still dream of falling every single night; my heart dropping, and my mouth filling with saliva as that familiar dead-weight impact reverberates around my brain. But it is the endless emptiness of my days and my complete incompetence at everyday tasks, the echoing loneliness and the sense of life moving on without me that is the hardest to bear.
I have wonderful friends and family around me, who make things easier and who cheer me up and who so obviously care about me and my well being. And although I do feel better than I did last week or the week before that, other people are simply not enough because the very thing I'm missing is me.
I don't believe in fate or destiny or things happening for a reason, but I do believe that I will have learned a lot from this seemingly never-ending nightmare, even if I can't see what that might be right now.