Heal me.

I’ve been terrible about writing.  It feels like there have been weeknight obligations galore in October, and the weekends are just filled with boxed wine, fire pits, housekeeping, and taking care of the leaves…such as below:

4-5 feet of leaves, just from the front yard alone.

I can’t take any of the credit for the leaf cleanup though; Brian has been working that backpack leafblower like, well, a professional lawn guy.  He even has a mustache!  Luckily, we paid someone to come suck those all up because we’d still be bagging them right now if we hadn’t.  Seriously.  I anticipate three more rounds of piles that big.  I will jump and wallow in one of them very soon.  Come join me!

Brian and I have had a wonderful first fall on Rock Forest, and at every turn in the neighborhood, I’m seeing beautiful scenes that could be sprinkled in charm.  I don’t know if they bottle that shit (charm) here in Forest Haven, but dang.  It looks like this during my runs around these tree lined streets and in the cemetery I’ve grown to adore:

Encouragement during four miles.

Feeling inspired, I signed up, along with many Schaeffer family members, to do a Turkey Trot.  A six-mile Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving day.  So when I kicked out four miles (as seen above) and could’ve gone longer, I was feeling pretty good about getting up to six in a few weeks.  Then, the weekend appeared.  And somehow, during a rousing Friday night game of Sorry! (the board game), I reached down to grab Dave the Doodle and I must’ve braced my foot under the poker table.  Four days and several ice packs later, my big toe looks like this:

That bruising extends for about four inches from my toe joint towards my ankle.

Running, combined with the trauma picking up a 30lb mini goldendoodle, produced what is apparently called “Turf Toe” and is another fancy way of saying I really sprained the ligaments in my big toe.  No, I haven’t been playing football on artificial turf…just running on hard pavement, wearing heels at work, and then going barefoot with no support while at home.  Ligaments and nerves are damaged.  Basically, my feet have never been good to me, and this is just one more instance where of course I should have an injury of this type that would prohibit me from training for a six-mile run that I am really excited about.  This is the worst my toes have felt since I dislocated one coming out of McGurk’s in 2008…a vivid memory for those who were involved.  That toe now only moves with one joint instead of two.

Then I bought Brian the Sven Saw, and was eager to test it out this weekend while he was in the front yard manning the leaf blower.  There were some pesky branches at the back of our yard, so I went at them with this miracle saw.  Sure enough, sawed into my hand! Who didn’t see that coming?!  Not to worry though, it just broke the skin really well, and it looks like someone stabbed my hand in a perfect row of five.  Nothing should surprise me or you anymore.

I’ve been pretty lucky in 2012 as far as injuries go.  Aside from those two weekend mishaps, my injuries have stayed in my head and psyche, but I’m working on healing those too.  I’m on week six with my psychologist, and I’m really enjoying the stability she is providing me.  I’m learning more and more how things I feel are connected (mainly with my adolescence), but also why I feel the way I do about certain places, emotions, and people.  It’s an awakening experience to bare your inner thoughts and things you don’t want to tell anyone, let alone a stranger, only to have her listen and provide minimal feedback, but very thought-provoking and intuitive feedback.  The relationship between a therapist and a patient is very curious.  They get to know everything about you…the deep dark stuff you don’t want to talk about or relive, and you know nothing about them.  It’s an exposure like no other.

Because I’ve been in and out of various types of counseling since college, I feel pretty perceptive about things.  Close friends would say I’m logical, maybe even intuitive.  These past few months have been rather challenging for me in many ways, but I’ve found that my intuition and my perception have been doing some things right.  I’m not saying I’m a psychic or anything, but I can usually predict outcomes and see things for what they really are.  Sounds hokey, right?

You’d be amazed at the things I predict and they come out as I had them favored.  If only life was like a horse track…I’d be making deals and betting like an old lady at a slot machine.  Smoking a Virginia Super Slim Menthol.  This perceptive thing I have going also leads me to believe that everyone around me could stand some serious counseling.  Maybe it’s for family stuff, relationship stuff, individual issues…whatever.  Chances are, I have told someone to seek some professional help to help them navigate what ails them.  I don’t always get a warm reception when that happens, but sometimes people surprise me.  They ask questions about what I’m going through, what they could do to help themselves, and also about medicines.  It’s not that bad, folks.  But sometimes, it’s okay for you to tell me to shut the hell up because I tend to feel passionately about seeking personal improvement, and sometimes, people just aren’t ready for all of that.  This is me, giving you permission to tell me to calm it down and not everyone needs therapy.

In the meantime, I will likely share appropriate outcomes from my weekly appointments.  I think it’s important to know that there are people feeling these very same things all the time – worry, anxiety, panic – and it’s important to know that you are not alone.

Fall pictures to come.  Just had to get the injury report and my mental status out there.  On to good things in November.

One thought on “Heal me.

  1. oh my god, you need to make iron cages for your feet- they are so delicate, darn it!
    You have the feet of a dear, Victorian woman who sits, sewing all day and treads on them only for the occasional (supervised) walk in the park with a besotted fellow. Your feet were born in the wrong century, sis.

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