1/28/2022

On Thanksgiving, while playing with a 16 month old dog, I injured my Achilles tendon. For weeks I tried to manage it on my own rather than going to see a doctor who could've sorted me out. Rather I thought I had plantar fasciitis and everything about treating plantar fasciitis runs counter to healing an Achilles tendon injury. Weeks later I was in the emergency room with pain approaching a nine, and the day after a podiatrist made a diagnosis and put me in a boot for a month and change.

On Monday I got some news which profoundly affected me, reinforcing the fact that I am a human being with human emotions, and for two days I was a bit of a mess. I was haunted by intrusive thoughts, subconscious voices telling me to do certain things, along with Tourettes-like outbursts from the stress I was putting myself under from the news. I broke down, contacted my therapist, and she made time for me to visit on Thursday night.
I teased her about her potential clairvoyant talents as I mentioned on Monday. Also mentioned how I hold her in high esteem since she insists "It's your choice, Chris. You know what is right."
She helped me get my head on straighter than doing it myself. There's nothing wrong with reaching out for help or advice. If there is a stigma, it's in my head rather than out in the world. I am grateful for her. Then she mentioned how her mother asked her, "Don't you know any single women you can hook him up with?" Of course the intention being one of her other patients. Funny, but my therapist knows me but she also warns me away from redheads and it has less to do with Edna Voegele and more of my therapist's personal experiences growing up with one.

I feel okay. Supposedly the shore is going to get slammed with heavy snow starting Friday night, Saturday will be a white-out with the potential of dropping eight to twelve inches, or 20-30 centimeters, of snow. On the bright side, I'm finally out of my boot. On the dark side, I'll have to tread carefully and not slip lest I re-injure myself or rupture my Achilles tendon.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I've been writing offline and it's a pleasant distraction which engenders a semblance of catharsis. It's journalling, chronicling things I'm not fully comfortable sharing here since I'm trying to establish a certain tone and voice at inkubo.org. They're hardly scandalous affairs but I'm working at keeping personal things personal until I have them processed and feel comfortable sharing. Not all my offline writing is journalling and that writing has been lifting my spirits a bit. Only thing is going out to write costs me ten bucks. Three glasses of pineapple juice at a local bar plus tip.
Yup, I go to a bar to not drink booze. At home if there's music or a loud television, I find it hard to concentrate and become frustrated. Yet going out, being around strangers, and listening to whatever SiriusXM channel is their favorite helps me concentrate. For this I am grateful.

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