On Sunday I was sparring with a friend, who also kickboxes, in my garden. I caught my toes on the bottom of his foot and ended up ripping the skin. There was blood and blacking out and a trip to the Doc on Monday. I am struggling to use the clutch (with my heel) and today is the first day it’s not been bandaged. It’s healing, I am on antibiotics just to ensure it doesn’t become infected. So my foot hurts and the wound is fragile, I feel like crud because antibiotics always make me feel like crud. I can’t use the gym since running and swimming are entirely ruled out, I can’t even do my two mile walk to and from the office, so work suddenly seems a million times harder.
I am still kickboxing. I am pitching up to training, limping and substituting where
necessary so I don’t miss any more classes.
I’ve been asked what I’m trying to prove. That’s easy. That i’m invincible. That
nothing will stop me achieving the things I want to achieve, that even injury can’t hold
me back much, that the breakdown of my marriage wasn’t my fault. Ah. So how does
that last one work? There is a reason I am not angry with my ex husband, the lack
of bitterness on my part about the marriage breaking down and it’s not just that it
was one of those unfortunate things. I still on some level think it’s my fault. I ‘know’
that it’s not, I know I’m being insane but I am still carrying the weird sense that I
failed us both. I guess all the anger the Wizard talks about is at myself. Angry that
I failed, angry that I was weak, angry that I lost so much of what my life could have
been over the years, angry that I am possibly more insecure rather than less with
the weight loss and angry that although I love being on my own I still feel rejected
because I am. Angry that I’m scared. And I am scared. I’m scared that it’s me, that
I’m not capable of sharing my life or my space with anyone else successfully, or
that I will somehow sabotage my own happiness. I’ve made a few jokes lately about
dying alone and being eaten by my cats (of which there will be at least 17 by that
point). It’s there, in my mind, what if I’m not worth what I think I’m worth, what if I
wasn’t underselling with the lousy boyfriends and the failed marriage, what if that is
all I get? I don’t belive that, not really, but some days go straight to the gaping holes in my coat of invincible confidence, and then it creeps in.
Yeah the last few weeks with being ill and then injured, they’ve taken their toll
on my optimism. I want to get back to my routine, regain the energy and stability
that training hard gives me. Recover my equilibrium. Forced to stop running and
weightlifting, walking and swimming all that energy turns inward and I’m not ready to
look there yet. I’d rather keep running, just a little while yet.