#10 Life on life's terms
Break a leg - they said.
I’d entered an extremely exciting chapter of my life. I was moving to a new city, one that I’d always be connected to since I’d lived there during my university days, and I was starting a new job in an area unfamiliar to me, but hungry to learn and grow in whichever ways I could. I had made so many plans in relation to my new life and how I envisioned it to be. A young, sober woman in one of the most beautiful places in the world - I was sure nothing could bring me down.
But something did bring me down. It’s unclear exactly what or how, but I found myself curled up on the floor on the morning of my first day of work, my foot in debilitating pain after twisting it as I crashed to the ground. Armed with the determination to not start my job on the wrong footing (LOL), I drove myself to work and continued on my not-so-merry way, persistent to make a good impression on my colleagues. As the day progressed, this became less and less likely as I literally hobbled my way through the premise, unable to concentrate on the tasks allocated to me.
Later that day, finally, and on the verge of tears, I made my way to a doctor who sent me straight to an x-ray, which confirmed what I’d been dreading - that I had fractured a bone in my foot. I was put into a moon boot and given crutches to assist my wobbly steps. This was not what I had planned. Six to eight weeks trapped in this contraption meant that my Cape Town summer was no longer looking quite so… summery.
I was disappointed. Every move that I now make has to be thoughtfully planned out and considered, I can’t risk doing things spontaneously and possibly do more damage to my foot. I promptly contacted the running club I had reached out to and the pole dance studio I was so excited to join and communicated that I wouldn’t be meeting them quite as soon as I’d hoped but that they please not forget about me, because I’d be there as soon as I could make it. I promise, I whimpered to myself, as if these strangers would somehow be affected by my emotional crisis.
I’ve had this boot on for a week and a half and I’m very aware that I have a ways to go. I’m proud of myself for how I’ve handled the whole situation so far because this could possibly have done quite a number on me if I had been in a different frame of mind.
However, I write this on a beautiful Saturday morning and as my housemate tends to our courtyard garden, I feel helpless and trapped. While a day in would have been so attractive to me just a month ago, not having a choice makes it far less appealing. I’m craving a solo adventure somewhere, anywhere, but I know that I have to rest this foot, even though I feel I have the capacity to do some things - like go to the beach or drive somewhere to see beautiful views.
I’m praying for patience and optimism. I’m adamant that this won’t affect my recovery in a negative way but rather, encourage me to be still and intentional about all that I do. It’s hard though. But it’s another reminder that I’m in control of nothing other than my mindset. My Cape Town summer hasn’t been ruined but rather, reframed. And so many other non-fractured foot ones await.
