Two Years Deep

“It’s a year of my life, it’s just gone.”

I’ll always remember those words tumbling out of my mouth during an argument with my husband last spring. Though it wasn’t exactly an argument, not really. There might have been some raised voices (mine) and definitely some tears (also mine) but we weren’t on opposing sides of the conversation about my broken foot and all the shit that followed. In reality it was more of an emotional bubbling over in the general direction of my husband rather than an actual argument.         

After twelve months of anxiety, isolation, and emotional turmoil over how much my life had changed, I dumped out all my dark thoughts onto my sweet husband’s lap. I had let myself grow from frustrated to seething with anger over my situation. 

What had started with a simple broken foot had built up to a full blown break down. I ended up quitting my job after having panic attacks after returning to work. I stopped leaving my room when I could avoid it and found it hard to make myself eat during the 8+ hours a day my husband was at work. I didn’t drive by myself for months and I had a hell of a time going out to check the mail if any of the neighbors were on the street.

Fear over every loud noise or sudden movement, guilt over all the things I wasn’t doing, and anger at myself for letting this bullshit overwhelm me filled most of my days. 

At the time we were still only engaged and living in Idaho. Even though my partner had a full time job and was eligible for their insurance coverage, I was not. And because Idaho chose not to expand their Medicaid program I was also ineligible for state coverage. So in limbo I swam with my anger and sadness and tried to wait things out till we were married and some type of health care would become available. 

And that’s where this not-an-argument-crying-shout-fest revealed one of the biggest grudges I had about the whole fucked up situation. 

“It’s a year of my life, it’s just gone.”

I went out to play mini golf one afternoon and I have never been the same since. And last year when those 365 weird, difficult days weighed down on my heart I ached for all the time and opportunities lost. I felt like I had really changed as a person and that terrified me. 

As the days of a second year whirled past me that lament over time lost echoed in my mind. My perspective shifted as my environment and situation changed. We got married, moved, and applied for Medicaid in Colorado. I started online therapy for a few months and was officially diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I stopped online therapy and eventually sought out someone to see in person. 

Now starting yesterday I am marching into the third year of this journey and it doesn’t so much feel like I’m losing chunks of my life to this pit of despair. I’ve finally managed to build a little life down here. A life with new stories brewing and birthday parties attended, with therapy appointments kept and maybe occasionally yoga classes, with my dreams of starting a family on the horizon and unnecessary drama in our rear view. Things are still scary, but feel measurably more manageable. 

A second year removed from the initial incident and I am starting to see how little this has to do with one bad fall and how much it has to do with issues I refused to address for years. It’s also easier to see how this intense trial in my life has been building me up for something. I’m not exactly sure what, yet, but the winds of change have been blowing in a more positive direction lately and for that I am thankful. 
Thanks for sticking with me while I pop in and out on this blog. Below I’m sharing a few photos from when I broke my foot. There was no blood, but the bruises were pretty gnarly so if you don’t like that kinda stuff you can stop reading here. (As always) hopefully there will be more posts to come soon! 

Be well, friends.

Fortune cookie from the night before I fell. Text reads “Keep your feet on the ground even though friends flatter you.”
Left foot swollen and right foot for comparison.
Bruise on the bottom of my foot was the worst.
Whole top of my foot and between the toes bruised.


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