True to Self


Being true to who we are, being who we are, may be difficult if we are concerned that our true selves will disappoint another person.  In the past, I spent quite a bit of time weaving tales so that those around me wouldn’t see who I truly was, and be disappointed.

We know what is expected of us from a young age, or at least a certain amount of us do.  We know the basics, the “norms” of our family and culture.  We, to a degree, know what our parents expect from us, even perhaps those things they won’t readily admit to expecting.  Behaviors and events and reactions paint a picture, and often it is all too clear just what that parent expects.

And as our world moves away from our nuclear unit, perhaps even our culture, we begin to see what “society” expects, what relationships expect, what our boss, our roommate, our out-of-town boyfriends expect.

I learned early into my venture, that what I wanted was simply not possible.  The life I wanted to lead, not possible, living with out-of-control bipolar disorder.  And I did a lot of crazy things, made a lot of bad decisions, but always told a lie that did not coincide with who I was at the core to spare the disappointment of people I loved.

Not, that is to say, that they didn’t see right through me.  Here we are over ten years later, and sometimes, when I start to get sick, I start telling those lies again, or I stay silent.  And often, when I am just in a space of feeling bad, which can last for days or can be intermittent throughout the day like a dying lightbulb, I am likely to gloss it over and not talk about what is bothering me.  “I’m fine!”

I tell fewer lies about the real truth of myself now, than I ever have.  I think I’m becoming more comfortable with me, but I think also, that I am beginning to learn that I can’t compromise who I am for the comfort of someone I care about.  I may disappoint, I may hurt, but I am me.

My Current, Personal Pep-Talk

The song below was brought to my brain, courtesy of my dear friend, Mental Mama.  She shared it as a song that reminds her of her significant other, and, as she says,

And it actually depends on the day which of us is “singing” this to the other. 

I have literally played this song over 50 times in the past two days, usually on a continuous loop.  I’ve emailed it to my mom, I’ve told my dad about it, I’m humming it under my breath.  It’s there, it’s stuck.

MM and her significant other may “sing” this to each other, but I think it works for me to sing it to MYSELF.  Read the lyrics, listen to the song.  I am singing JUST THAT to myself.  I’m giving myself a constant pep talk.  I’m not giving up on me or who I am.

When I look into your eyes
It’s like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well, there’s so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you’ve come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?Well, I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up

And when you’re needing your space
To do some navigating
I’ll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find

‘Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We’ve got a lot to learn
God knows we’re worth it
No, I won’t give up

I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you’re still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not, and who I am

I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up, still looking up.

Well, I won’t give up on us (no I’m not giving up)
God knows I’m tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We’ve got a lot to learn (we’re alive, we are loved)
God knows we’re worth it (and we’re worth it)

I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up


Six Days Post-Breakup



I have been working hard at banishing the thought from my head that this breakup and the most-negative contents of the relationship were my fault.  I have been writing lists, indicating things I can do now that I wasn’t “allowed” to before.  They’re written everywhere.  On my computer, on junk mail, in my  planner, on scraps of paper, on the back of Kizz’s heartworm med box.  Whenever I have a thought, about something I can do now that I couldn’t do then, I write it down.  In my mind, this will free me from the bad feelings I have about this relationship.

More importantly, I hope it will free me from the thinking that the mistreatment of me and my pup during the relationship were not my fault.  I guess I could just start a mantra, “This was not my fault, this was not my fault, this was not my fault,” but I don’t think that would work.  I need concrete examples.

My memory of the past two years is a bit hazy.  When I was severely ill, a lot of those memories didn’t get locked down tight.  And, I’m just guessing, that a lot of the traumatic moments between us didn’t get remembered either, simply because of their nature.  But the thing is, the last six months of the relationship are crystal clear.

And guess what?  This was not my fault.  I try to tell myself this.  But I can’t help but wondering why I stayed so long, why I put up with the things I did, why I went along with the things he wanted me to do, why I let him put me in a little, tiny box and throw away the key to the outside world.

I am like a woman, half-drowned, getting her first gasps of air.  I am socializing now, even if it’s only immediate family (and Rock, of course).  I am staying up later and finding no ill effects.  I am doing what I want to do during the day, when I am not at work, and it is such a freeing feeling.

In the m0nths before we broke up, I was always trying to stay at work late or come in early, because I didn’t want to be at  home.  I signed up for every mission, every bank run, every errand.  I just did not want to go home.  And, at the time, that wasn’t a big red flag to me.

I saw my dad today, and he helped me take a ton of DSB’s medical supplies to the hospital to donate.  I know I should probably hang onto some of the other stuff he left, just in case, but those medical supplies were expensive and I know that is what he wanted done with them.  It is so nice to have all of those cardboard boxes out of my living room.  I mean, the living room has been packed with them since January and now, nothing but furniture and a TV.  I’m loving that, and so is Kizzie, because she gets to hang out on Momma’s lap while we watch mindless TV.

It is going to take me and mom a lot of time, but we’re going to get the house totally cleared up.  Rugs professionally cleaned, furniture steam cleaned, the works.  She’s also going to do some patching on a few holes in the plaster that have been gone through with a chair.  She says, and I believe her, that we will have this place so clean that I won’t believe it, and it will be very easy to keep it that way.  She even dangled the carrot that it would be possible that, if it were cleaned up and kept clean, that my sister might want to visit with my nephew.  I could die, if that happened.

It would be great period, if I could start having people over again and not be ashamed of what my house looks like.  My stepsister and her two kids will hopefully come this summer, if I can get the pool operational.  My dad, although he doesn’t like Kizzie (afraid of dogs), might even come in and we can sit outside in my backyard and shoot the shit.  My mom kept coming over through it all, but she did tell me how much more comfortable she is coming over now that he is not here.  I guess I’m so oblivious, that I didn’t realize she was uncomfortable in the first place.

This is a time of growth, and I am having more good times than bad times (although I’m not sleeping), and I’d have to say that getting him out of here is the best decision I have made in ages.  Years.  A really long time, anyway.  Now I just have to start building myself back up from the ground, which will likely be a daunting project, but I’m ready for it.  I have some goals I want to accomplish, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I need anyone’s permission, and I can focus on what it is that makes me happy.


wallow im awesome


Don’t Live There: Get Up




melt down


As anybody who knows me or has talked to me in the last week or has done even a minimally good job at following this blog, ya’ll know the past week or two has been beyond the bounds of stress.  I may have snapped at a few people, been less than my cheerful self, become irritated by small things you asked me to do, seemed overwhelmed at a task that wasn’t that big, not returned your calls, or avoided you all together.

Right here, right now:  I intend to fix that.  Like the picture above says, “cry it out and then refocus on where you are headed.”  Well, I think, after tonight, I’ll be done crying it out, at least for a little while.  I could say for a week or a day or a month, but we all know what Father Time can do and how Mother Earth likes to smack us upside the head sometimes, maybe when we’re getting a little too proud or confident.


bad day

It’s easy to generalize a bad day into a bad year, for sure.  Especially at the start of the year, when not much time has passed.  It has not been a great year for DSB’s health.  There was the abcess from the kidney removal, the subsequent surgery to remove the abcess, and then, to add insult to injury, a wound vac that must be changed three times a week by a registered nurse.  And now a (going on 5-day) stint in the hospital with pneumonia.  DSB’s 2014 has been unpleasant, medically speaking.

While it’s safe to say that DSB has not had a stellar start to 2014, I can’t take that on as my own.  To generalize that to myself, to say that dearest Rosa has not had a stellar start to 2014, would be a lie that only I would tell myself.  That I have sometimes told myself time and time again, when things between DSB and I were not going well.  Because when someone is sick and someone is tending, tensions grow.  When someone is sick, the other person worries and stress rises.  But Rosa has not  had a bad start to 2014.  Some amazing things have  happened, and I think I have chronicled some of them in my TToT posts.

To, me, I can feel like the woman in that picture above.  I can sense the wonder at the rising or setting sun, the yellowed grasses around me, the sky, the very being of myself.  Some truly wondrous things have happened to me so far this year.  I have:

1) Formed and continued solid friendships with my bloggie friends.

2) Solidified my love for DSB, by choosing right over wrong, trust over lies, consideration for the other over self-indulgence.

3) Forged deeper connections with my inner voice.  I can let that voice out now, and have it be heard, and not worry (too much), about what effect that voice is going to  have on a person that chooses willingly to read what I have written.

4) Given up trying to hide myself from the one who has always hunted me.

5) Learned to forgive, not to forget.  Learned to trade in anxiety and lonesomeness and uncertainty in a fatherly relationship for compassion for what that person must be going through at this time.  We are all human, even dads.

6) Learned to separate myself from that which is negative in my life.  I choose not to have negativity in my life, and won’t tolerate it.  Even if this means giving up people that I thought I cared about.

7) Started to open myself up to the possibility of rejection.  Making jokes, telling fish stories, and selling bait isn’t as easy as you might think.  There is a world of nuance within those walls.

8) Decided to stop counting my breaths as I am trying to fall asleep, and instead to just.breathe.  In, out.  Don’t say it, don’t think it, just do it.  Appreciate the feel of the air through your nose, through your mouth, the rise and fall of your chest, the tickle in your throat.  Don’t put a word on it, just be, just do.

To celebrate, let’s take a listen to my second most favorite meditation practice, singing bowls.  And let’s be honest, Goddess of Mindfulness, my first pick is always the metal, but nowhere else can I get those bowls.  They are addictive and the stories you told me on Wednesday left happy traces of puppies and friends and love on my heart.  Bless you.

Please note that these are quartz singing bowls and they have a very special place in my heart.  If you can (after you get through the commercial-ish first section), do take a listen.  Take off your shoes, set your feet on the floor, sit upright, and breathe.  You can do this.  You really can.







Wishing Upon a Star

This has been a different week for me.  I still feel good, but with an anxiety cloud looming overhead.  I have read many “thankful for” or “gratitude list” posts and I want to do something a little different tonight.  The following are things I am currently hoping or wishing for.  Some are intensely personal and others more generic.  Come wish upon a star with me:

1) I wish that DSB’s health problems will be resolved so he can live a fuller, happier, healthier life.  The wound vac is in the way of a lot of his activities, not to mention the pain he is in, and the sickness he feels from the infection.  I wish him health.

2) I wish that my friend, Marilyn, coasts through her heart surgery tomorrow and is back to blogging and emailing and carrying on within the next several weeks.  I wish Marilyn time and patience.

3) I wish my mom a relief from stress.  This is our busy season, and she is trying to get plants potted and work outside on the few days that are warm.  On top of that, she runs all of the financial and business end of the stores, and that is a non-stop battle.  Beyond that, she is a loving and caring grandmother, and a supportive and positive role model for her daughters.  I wish for her to feel the appreciation from others for what she does every day.

4) I wish my therapist knew how much she helps me, even on a day-to-day basis.  Just fifteen minutes sitting on her couch this week, talking about what might seem mundane to most, helped with my anxiety level tremendously.  Perhaps I put her on a pedastal, but she and her words have saved my life over and over.  I wish Goddess of Mindfulness the experience of knowing she really IS helping people.

5) I wish certain bloggers who I follow, who are in such despair, that they are able to see a light at the end of the tunnel.  People do care, even if it only amounts to your readers.  There are people out there who care about you and don’t want to see you leave this life unexpectedly.  I wish those bloggie friends the ability to see into a more positive future.

6) I wish I could get in control of my eating.  I have taken the first step by nearly eliminating sugared drinks from my diet, but I need to do more.  I could be so much  healthier and happier even 100 or really, even 50 pounds lighter.  It’s not about the looks, it’s about my ability to function in day-to-day life.  I am tired of the binges and the guilt and the pain that go along with it.  I wish for myself to remember that food is fuel.

7) I wish my sister could get a little more sleep.  My nephew is 8 weeks old (and one day!) and he is not the best little sleeper in the world.  I wish for my sister patience, and the knowledge that I love her very much and would do just about anything to ease the stress and busyness and, maybe, the feelings of loneliness.  I love you, sis!

8) I wish for my BigDawg that he can take things as they come this crappie season.  I hope he can let others do a little bit more, so he can take a few more breaks.  I hope he can get off his feet once in awhile and use that damn tennis ball for the plantar fasciatis.  I hope that he gets the big sales he wants and that shad entrails come in soon.  I wish for him a fun summer with great employees that he can trust and rely on.

9) I wish for my Dad good health and optimism for his eating habits.  I hope he is able to go to the gym, like he wants to, and that he is able to do that without injuring himself.  I hope he is able to schedule in some big walks, and that he doesn’t over-do.  I wish health and never-ending happiness for my dad.  I also wish that he will go with me to Mass on a semi-regular basis.

10) I wish for you, yes, for you reading this, that I am very appreciative of any time you spend on my blog and that every “like” and comment mean the world to me.  Sometimes I just want to be heard.  I wish for myself, the knowledge that I am reaching out and touching someone, even if it is only a small number of someones.

Won’t you follow along and make a wish with me?  Please do link up, if you so desire.  I found that writing this “I wish” list was quite cathartic and meaningful.

The Quiet Crash and Burn

I am falling apart inside, and almost no one knows.  I don’t talk about it much, but I do cry a lot.  I find myself extremely anxious and irritable for no reason.  I find myself thinking negative things of myself and wondering why on Earth anyone would want to be in any kind of friendship or relationship with me.  I find myself worrying (unnecessarily, I am sure) that DSB is going to get tired of the winter depression and bolt.  But he did say it…every winter, here we go.

In insanely good news, I have my old therapist, Goddess of Mindfulness, back.  My previous therapist and I were not a good match, and I felt there was  more that I wanted to work on than what she wanted me to.  I saw her in early December, and she suggested that after another session or so, I wouldn’t need therapy at all anymore.  I thought on that, accepted that as fact, and then had to re-evaluate.  There is so much in my life that needs helping, correcting, tweaking, re-learning, growing through.  As long as I can afford it, and I need it, I’m going to find a way.

In terribly bad news, I have been significantly depressed since around Christmas, worsening around the New Year.  A lot of negativity, anxiety, irritability, sadness, crying spells, and three panic attacks.  I am not coping well.  I am just hanging on.

And it comes and it goes.  It’s the lovely ups and downs of bipolar disorder, those chaotic mood swings.  One minute I feel like I might be able to accomplish anything and the next, I can’t make myself take a shower or brush my teeth.  One minute, I’m cleaning the kitchen and then once I’m done, I’m sitting in my dining room crying my eyes out over some perceived slight.

This gets tiresome.  This year, after year, after year nonsense.  I should probably be using my sunlamp.  I have missed a few doses of Ritalin.  I should know what to do.  I should know exactly what to do.  It’s the doing of it that seems so impossible.  Get up and function, tough through it, stop being a whiner.  Just do it.

Is it really that simple?  Just do it?  Just get off your fat, lazy ass and do something about this terrible anxiety and depression that are pervading your life?  I think, well, no, it can’t be QUITE that simple, or I would have done it by now, 32 years later.  There are things I can do to make myself better, little things, and I am doing those little things.  Life is such, however, that all of those little things added together sometimes aren’t enough.

So you pick a fight with your boyfriend and sit and cry awhile at the dining room table.  And think about how he will probably leave you.  And think that you  have no one you can call.  So you cry some more.  And think about asking your boyfriend if he is going to leave you.  And hold your dog, it’s fur soaking up your tears, unconditional love if there ever was any.  And you calm yourself, clean your kitchen, and go to see if you can make a peace offering to your boyfriend.  And hope it works.

And for now, that’s all I have the power within to do.  Light that candle for me.

Mother Effer and, Ultimately, Classic Frustration

After a string of days blogging, the keyboard has gone silent for too long.  I do this to myself all the time, you know.  Process through things via this blog, then hit some sort of roadblock, stop blogging for some inane reason, and then just sit in silence and curse those issues under my breath.  When I’m in not-blogging mode, I still read all of the blogs I am following religiously.  I generally know I need to get back on the proverbial horse again when I find myself getting jealous or envious of the emotions that people I follow are having.  That’s right.  You’re having an emotion, and I’m jealous.

I am in that spot in bipolar disorder that is marked with a lack of sparkle for everyday activities.  Now don’t get me wrong, I still like going to my little itty-bitty part-time job and dishing up worms.  I still love my boyfriend and family, still play with my dogs, and still can’t wait to get in the swimming pool (DSB gave me one for my birthday!) at the end of the day.  But there are other things going on, and not going on.

I continue to be plagued by severe anxiety.  I am taking Klonopin PRN’s frequently (although not more than they are prescribed by my pdoc) and find myself unable to cope with day-to-day stressors.  When I am not feeling anxious, I am feeling somewhat flat.  I read other people’s blogs and they have this passion for life, about life, even about hating life.  That’s right, I am jealous of you for having a passion for not wanting to live.  It just doesn’t make any sense.  I was telling DSB last night that it seemed like we had a pretty good life.  It’s like I was just struck by it all of a sudden.

I have a pretty good life.  I have a roof over my head, food on the table, great family and boyfriend, loyal dogs.  There is no serious trouble in my life, I am not having to struggle to survive.  But I feel flat.  I feel alternatingly anxious and flat.  And there are times where I feel just fine, too, of course.  Because it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t full of contradiction.  Ultimately, I just feel frustrated.

I wonder if I will ever feel “better” or free of some of this anxiety.  I wonder if I will ever be filled with joy and contentment and serenity (as a blogging friend put it).  Is that even possible?  Am I ever going to accomplish more with my life, or should I just be happy with what I have?  I think a lot of the reason my last therapist was so frustrated with me was because she wanted me to make some giant leap into something that would make me “happy” and I just didn’t know what that would be and wasn’t very open, because I feel like I am still working on current issues.

Due to schedules and timing and suckiness, I don’t get to see my new therapist until next Tuesday, even though I have been referred to her for over two weeks now.  I am nervous about doing trauma work, but I know I will never be able to get over insecurities and anxiousness and flashbacks and nightmares without it.  And I SO want to be over those things.  I am also worried about whether or not she will let me address anything besides trauma, or if that is the only thing we can talk about.  Because there is other stuff going on in my life that I need to talk about.  I am very hopeful that I will like this new therapist, and she comes with a good recommendation from Goddess of Mindfulness, so I am even more hopeful.  It would be nice to have a therapist again that I feel understands, empathizes, and acts in my best interest.

Uncertainty (and Gratitude) by the Bucket-full

I went months without needing to use more than two or three PRN’s a month, but here lately, it has become almost a daily thing.  I cannot shake this overwhelming anxiety I am feeling.  I know there has been a lot of stress in my life lately, and ongoing, but I just don’t feel like I can get it together in this department.

I saw my only, dearest, baby sister yesterday for a brief time.  We met for coffee and I talked with her about how I am not sleeping and about the horrible anxiety.  I told her how I was afraid that a continued lack of sleep would send me into an episode.  She just sat calmly and oh-so-collected (like only she can) and asked if I had told my psychiatrist about this.  Well, no, I haven’t.  She  then urged me to call the mental health center right then and there and ask what the earliest appointment with my pdoc I could get would be.

She is so right, about so many things.  I was able to get an appointment 25 minutes later, and though it cut our visit short, I was just so damn grateful for her listening and caring and making the suggestion.  I don’t think she knows how incredibly supportive she is, just by making sure that I know she cares and that she loves me very much.  We haven’t always been close, but it feels like we are getting closer by the minute and I just love her so much and am so thankful for the love that she gives me.  I couldn’t ask for a better sister and I would go through hell and back to keep her love.

Meanwhile, I went and saw my pdoc.  He is an older gentelman, quiet, calm, reserved.  He listens more than any pdoc I have ever had and has the best approach to solving problems, big and small.  Even though he had only been notified of my appointment 25 minutes earlier, when I saw him he had read through the last several progress notes from my therapist, so he has some idea of what I am going through.

I talked with him about not sleeping and he basically said we have to nip that in the bud, now!  He had already looked back through my chart at medications that I have taken in the past and noticed that I have tried small doses of Seroquel before with the reason I stopped taking it being that it gave me too much of a hangover in the morning and I couldn’t function at work that way.

Since I no longer have to be up for work at 8:00am, he wants me to give the Seroquel a try again, and just to use it until I can get my sleep pattern straightened out again.  He also gave me some reassurance about using my PRN and basically said that’s what it’s there for and it didn’t sound to him like I am abusing it at all.  He said that, as the stress in my life lessens, I just won’t need it as much anymore.

It was nice not to have to see my therapist or go to group this week, but I really could have used some professional opinions on things going on in my life.  Not even an opinion is necessary, just someone to bounce things off of.  I can use DSB and QoB for that to a degree, but there are some things that I don’t/can’t/shouldn’t talk about with them.

I have a lot in my life to be thankful for.  I have very supportive parents, I have reconnected beautifully with both my dad and my sister, my previous therapist, Goddess of Mindfulness, has given me a beautiful gift in forgiving my debt to her, DSB and I are mending fences here and there, and I think things are truly going to start looking up.

There is still a lot of stress and tension and conflict, and I really must find a new therapist, but I get this sense deep down, as I type this, that everything really is going to be okay.  I haven’t felt that way for awhile now, and it’s such a good feeling to have.


Episode, Schmepisode

I haven’t blogged for the last several days because I haven’t felt I had anything of import to say.  I’ve also been less than motivated, full of self-criticism, and in general avoiding any kind of reaching out.

I saw my therapist on Tuesday.  About a month and a half ago, I had switched to seeing her every other week.  With a few cancelled appointments due to snow, DSB illness, and other random occurances, I managed to see her twice in six weeks.  Not good.

During our meeting on Tuesday, I decided that I wanted to go back to seeing her once a week.  I am on a somewhat steady path, and am ready to tackle some demons that have been haunting me for several years.  I’m ready to take on the trauma issues, the self-confidence issues, the self-assurance issues.  I’m ready to take on things that I have just dealt with that need to be changed.

For the past few weeks, I have been feeling a bit purposeless, but with these new therapy goals, I feel like I am taking life by the proverbial horns again.  I am not a person who does well with doing this, undirected.  I feel confident that I can resolve many problems with the help of my therapist, and the support of DSB and family.

One of the things that I want to do is be better-informed, as in, possibly start keeping up with news and current events.  I have such a good time talking about things like this with my Dad and he is always super well-informed, watching the news and reading the paper daily.  I want to have more conversations like this.  I want to contribute.  I want to have something to say, an opinion, an idea.

I am also considering returning to group DBT on a weekly basis.  I have talked with my therapist and she thinks it is a really good idea.  It helped me a few years ago when I went through it, but my experiences with it this last time were not good.  I told my therapist that I only wanted to attend her group and she said she would be  happy to welcome me.  I have a lot of trust and faith in this therapist, and really enjoyed her in IOP (intensive outpatient group).  I am hopeful that group DBT will be helpful for me again.

So, as the title states, I don’t think this is an episode.  I am thinking of it as a bump in the road, a nail in the tire, a nagging headache.  It will pass in due time, and with some work, things can be a lot better.

Unconditional Hope

A few months of stability, I think, can be attributed to a year’s worth of major life overhauls.  This stability feels like it might actually stick, though, compared with other times when that didn’t feel so.  I have blogged before that I don’t believe in “recovery” from mental illness.  What I am feeling now, however, feels so real, so far removed from those times of misery, that I feel like it’s possible.  Recovery is possible.

I feel like the lows might not get so low, the highs not so high, and the cycles not so frequent.  I have hope for the future, hope that in the past has always been fleeting and conditional.  It doesn’t feel that way now.  Life feels real and it feels good to be me.  It doesn’t feel like I’m up and on my way higher, too high.  My head feels clearer, my thoughts less jumbled, less fog to muddle through.  

For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a life worth living.  I really think that “retiring” from the mental health field and going on SSDI has made all the difference.  I still work here and there for my parents’ businesses, and I have other things that keep me busy.  I still feel a lot of times like I could be busier, do more, and can get into a cycle of beating myself up about it.  For the most part, though, I am happy with how I spend my time.

There will be another transition period within the next few months, and I am hopeful that I can get through it without much struggle.  I have been limited in my activities since mid-December, when I broke my foot.  The general consensus is that it started out as a stress fracture mid-December, then compounded into an actual break mid-January.  I have been in a boot with crutches since then, and went to the doctor earlier this week for a follow-up.  He did another x-ray and it turns out that the bone had not started healing.  I was quite disappointed, but was told that this is common with this type of break (fifth metatarsal at the base) due to poor circulation in that area.  Of course, QoB already had this all knowed-up, but I was holding out hope that I’d be out of the boot and off crutches that day.  I am to return in three weeks, but the doctor says he does not think it will be healed by then.  So, I’m looking at a few months possibly of continued gimping around.

My worry is that, once I am able to get on my feet again, that I will not do so.  I desperately want to be to a point where I at least keep my own house clean, cook nightly, and possibly start walking once the boot is off.  I hope I can keep up that determination, because everything feels “so right” at this point, and I don’t want to lose that feeling.