Ten weeks doesn’t sound a lot. You wouldn’t think that you could achieve very much in that time. Or maybe you could, I mean how often do any of us really measure an amount of time and judge what we could have done? How often do we set ourself goals and be able to say that we have achieved them? Maybe some of you (assuming anyone is reading this) do do this, but it wasn’t something that I was good at.
But in the last ten weeks I have been to hell and back. I’ve had my legs broken and half fixed, am in the process of now learning to walk properly again and have realised what really is and isn’t important in my life.
My sense of time would normally revolve around school holidays.
How many weeks until half term?
How many weeks until they go back to school?
We are just starting the six week summer holidays. Usually I would enter this phase with a small sense of dread. No more toddler groups to entertain the boys plus an active 10 year old to amuse as well.
But this year I look at the next six weeks as the end of a very difficult journey and the beginning of the next phase. I am unsure how I feel. Excited? Nervous? Sad? Angry?
Probably a little bit of everything.
There is still a bit of me that is definitely angry. Despite the large part of me that is able to look upon this as an amazing opportunity to do something fantastic, there is still a small fire of anger for the fact that I am even having to go through this. But I think that we all need that little fire to keep us focused and strong and able to see the brighter future we can have if only we open our eyes and hearts to the possibility.
I am so proud of what I have achieved, the human body is a remarkable thing. I have come so far but I am under no illusions that the next chapter will be an easy ride.
I still get very frustrated and I am so hard on myself, every time I reach a new goal it is never enough. I want more. I am just so desperately unhappy with this cage stuck on my leg, with its pins and screws invading my bones that nothing is never enough to ease the emotional suffering it brings along side the magic it is working on the breaks.
It hasn’t even been a week yet that I have been able to walk around confidently with my crutches and quite often without them, yet already I hate their presence and feel so upset and despondent when it hurts too much to not use them. I am fed up with my feet swelling up and I hate the involuntary spasms in my legs. Honestly the list could go on!
But carry on I shall for defeat is simply not an option.
Today is the first day in ten weeks that James and I have been apart. I have felt like my right arm has been missing. How did it become that I couldn’t even last a day without my husband? Crazy!
So I sit here in bed, in my old bedroom at my Mum’s house, waiting to hear the key in the door, trying hard not to cry (even though I am not entirely sure why I even want to cry) and think about the next ten weeks and what I want to achieve.