Sadness. This girl gets me.
I’ve been on crutches for almost 14 weeks. I had appointments with my physician at 4 weeks and 10 weeks. At both appointments, I hoped I’d be released from crutch life. At both appointments, he said no. At the 4-week appointment, I was fine with it. There were still some endorphins in my system; my metabolism hadn’t slowed down; I was still “losing weight” (coughmusclecough). At 10 weeks, I had to chant don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry in my head for the duration of the appointment, until I made it back to my car, where I could lay my head on the steering wheel and wallow in self-pity. #dontcryanddrive
The problem isn’t necessarily that I hate the crutches so much; sure, they’re a nuisance, but I’m still able to pretty much do what I would normally do. (My husband might disagree with this statement, as he has to carry all the groceries, vacuum the floors, carry the laundry, and at the end of October, carry all the boxes when we move.) The problem is that my personality is built to need and expect forward motion. It’s why I like running. With running, there’s always progress to be made: running farther, running faster, feeling better. It’s why I like knitting: I can see the scarf (that’s all I can knit) get longer and longer. It’s why I like doing laundry: Giant piles of folded clothes that smell great are satisfying. It’s why I like cooking and baking: Hello, delicious results!
I need to feel like I’m making progress and getting better, and these days, 85% of the time, I feel a gut-ache worry that there’s not any improvement, that I’m not getting better, and that I might still be on crutches when the snow comes.
My go-to sadness busters (running, long walks in the summer sun, and eating) are not available to me. So tell me, friends, how do you snap out of a sadness rut?