So I have a stress reaction in my left foot. This thing has been going on for eight weeks and two days (yeah I know), took forever to get diagnosed properly due to a negative first MRI, and its still not better. Its getting there…one day at a time and all that blah blah blah, but its not there yet.

Last night as we lay in bed, alternating between chatting and quietly thinking, Jesse asked me “I’m just curious…I noticed you haven’t been writing as much for your journal through this injury as you did last year. Why not?”

I thought about it, trying to come up with the right words, and I couldn’t put a single cohesive thought together. “I don’t know,” I finally conceded.

After connecting the dots on the ceiling for a couple minutes, it started to piece together.

“Its just that…last time I was injured, it was different,” I explained. “I was at rock bottom. I had such a long way to go to climb out of the hole that writing about the day-to-day kept me present, and being present was the only way out of the hole.”

I turned my back to him with a sigh, stealing the blankets, “And this time its temporary (or at least that’s how I’m thinking about it) so I’m trying not to read into things too much, day-to-day. I’m trying to keep my mentality exactly as it was before I got hurt so I can pick up right where I left off. Confident. Ready to take on the World.” I looked into the darkness. “In order to do that, I can’t think about now.”

He gently pulled back his share of the blankets and turned to hug me, “That makes sense. You shouldn’t write unless you want to.”

“Problem is,” I whispered, “its been over two months since I’ve run. With every passing day, its getting harder to believe everything will turn out ok.”

“It will. Do you believe it will?”

“I don’t know.” I turned back towards him, and looked at his familiar silhouette for the answer. “When I let myself think about it…yeah, I do.”

I placed his hand on my heart, “but then I get this pain, deep inside.”
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