Things were going so much better.
Not perfect by any means, but better.
I still had days where I cried all day and I couldn’t get up the oomph to do anything.
But I had other days where I got dressed with make-up and everything, and went out to lunch with a friend, and worked out and took a shower and played the piano and went shopping IN Kroger and drove on the expressway.
I asked my doctor, is this normal? Am I still going to have days where I just cry and cry.
He said yes. He can’t cure my bipolar, he can just make it better. Everyone has bad days, mine just look worse than others.
It was a relief. It gave me hope.
And then I fell.
I was going down a couple of stairs and somehow my foot landed on it’s side and bent over itself and down I went. A stage 2 sprain and a slightly torn tendon leaving me with some fancy kind of tendonitis. And I’m in a boot.
1. It hurts. A lot.
2. I can’t drive for at least three weeks and suddenly my independence and a lot of my new skills are no longer an option.
But it’s not the end of the story.
I asked my mom what she needed me to be able to do for me to go home. She said: feed myself. Three times a day and two snacks (that’s the rule of my eating disorder specialist).
So that’s what I’m working on. I ordered my groceries from Walmart delivery, and I picked meals that are a little easier than what I would usually try if I only had to cook once a week. So far, I’m pretty much failing, but I’m hoping it will get easier. Plus, I was determined to start on Sunday, so the last couple of days don’t really count anyway, right?
I like the phrase two steps forward one step back, because it reminds me that hurting my foot didn’t take me back to before I started making progress. It’s just a hiccup. So, I’m going to throw myself into this cooking and eating thing, and I’m going to nail it. Because that’s just who I am. I don’t go halfway.
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