Today officially marks my hundredth day of The Year of Self-Love.
In theory I should be in my garden surrounded by the smell of soil and the sound of chirping birds; or I should be walking my way to a healthier, happier me; or I should be strengthening my body and soul through yoga; or even going for long walks on the beach. But no. I’m doing none of those things today.
Just a few days ago I was working in my garden, moving rocks to line a path and watching with a weary eye my twins as they fought over who would get to help mummy water the plants. I was not looking where I was going. One minute I was fine; the next, my ankle twisted in a disturbing way. I heard the snapping of my ligaments as my ankle gave way to the curve of a shallow hole I’d stepped in (a hole I, myself, had dug a few months before and for a short while housed a yellow hibiscus that later died).
It was like slow motion, I swear. I could do nothing but go with the flow and fall to the ground like a pile of rocks. In fact, me and the pile of rocks I’d been holding, we both fell ungracefully.
For the last few days the only traveling I’ve done is from the bed to the couch (or bathroom) and back. My life is a cycle of Voltaren, pain killers, ice packs, elevating-of-the-foot, re-wrapping the brace and humbly asking my family and friends for help.
While I was on the couch one day I thought to myself: “I could easily see this as an opportunity for my depression to creep up and sit on my shoulders, weigh me down like a backpack of high school books.” But I refused to let it.
Instead of working in my garden, I sat by the window and admired how beautifully it’s coming along.
Instead of walking my daily 10,000 steps, I made my steps count. I focused on the strength my arms and shoulders were gaining from using crutches to get around.
Instead of digging deeper into my yoga practice, I worked my core through balancing on my “good leg”, which coincidentally is my weakest leg/side in yoga.
Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I’ve learned to accept the perks of this temporary handicap, like being able to park closer to my office building (rather than walk the usual 700-step journey from car to desk), using my outstretched crutch to flick the light switch off, getting the kids to do more (read my) chores and, today, riding the motorised shopping cart while doing bulk shopping.
So, sure, Day 100 won’t be going as I anticipated but all is not loss. You only need to look at the silver lining of this grey cloud.
Peace + love