Sighs of relief, I can admit I was scared last night.
The profound in illness has been my most vast reckoning seen thus far, and I can only imagine why.
I’ve injured about every bone, muscle, and ligament with no amount of recognition to the absence of cartilage in my ankles. I bruised my bottom and concussed my brain. Yet, I refuse not to get up. I refuse not to keep going.
In this or these type of situation(s), I have some understanding of “taking a break” or the dreaded “taking time off” and I disguise it as “taking time for myself.” Well let me tell you, the only time I take for myself is to repair.
No amount of self-love posts, face masks, or cooking can account for the pain I refuse not use for my gain.
And then it stops still.
I can’t move.
I. Can’t. Move.
And then I wonder.
Is this the last time?
Is this the last time, that I’m only going to wonder if I can’t get up again. Suddenly the world seems small and I’m clenching at threads because it gives me hope that I regain the feeling, until I am up.
All that fear, to be proven wrong and I call it a Saving Grace.
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