Admitting defeat, and depression 

Within 2 minutes of my mom answering my phone call on Mother’s Day she started to apologize to me for not checking in on me by phone more while I’ve been sidelined from life with a broken foot. Immediately reminded her I can just as easily pick up the phone, which I hadn’t done a ton, and then she called my bluff, and asked if I’d hit the point of being depressed. And without a breath, I said yes. 
It’s hard to explain. I feel like because there are so many people going through so much more difficult things in the world, it’s silly for me to feel how I do. But that one question, from the one person who knows me better than I’d care to admit, reminded me that isn’t how our minds work. Our minds, souls, bodies are going to feel how they feel until we figure out how to deal with it, regardless of how silly we might feel. 

It’s hard to go from defining oneself as being a runner, an active person who cooks healthy meals, runs for hours each week, and interacts with other runners on a daily basis, to being someone who can only handle washing her hair once a week because it’s nearly impossible to do in a bathtub, and showering on one foot is just dangerous. Someone who can’t manage to keep her house clean because she inevitably falls on her broken foot every time she tries to act like a normal person. 
I’ve stopped trying to see friends, even when they are in town from across the country, because I’m in pain, I’m excused, or I’m embarassed about not being able to walk. I’m afraid of asking for help because I’m too independent for my own good. I’m more okay with sitting at home, occasionally breaking into tears for almost no reason, and breaking open a bottle of wine at least once a week.  
I’m depressed. I’m not myself anymore, and I can’t avoid it just because “it’s only a broken foot”. To me, it’s become so much more than that. And for both, I’m getting help, because regardless of what level of importance a broken broken foot might have to you, it is a tipping point for me, and your opinion, quite honestly, doesn’t matter. 

7 thoughts on “Admitting defeat, and depression 

  1. Cyanne I’ve been thinking of you– I know the pain (physical and mental) of an injury, and how it can mess with our heads. I’ve never met you in person, but have been so impressed to see how hard you work and how much you’ve accomplished, both in your running/working out/eating well and in your professional life. I’m sorry you’re going through this right now, and just know that things will get better. Great job in recognizing when you need help, and taking the steps to take care of yourself.

  2. I had a broken foot this time last year and it is nothing trivial. You have my every sympathy. I went from being a runner and working out regularly to being incapacitated and it did make me very frustrated and angry. I especially got annoyed by friends alluding to me “hobbling” – a thing I associate with elderly people!If it’s any comfort, I’m back to running/crossfit now – so there IS light at the end of the tunnel and although it probably feels right now that this situation will never end it WILL pass and it IS temporary. I’ve even done a PB since coming back! You will run again. Take care x

  3. Sending you love and warmth. You have an army of supporters. ❤ Hang in there

  4. Many ((hugs)) Cyanne. I think it’s completely normal to feel the way you do. I know I would. Hang in there! If I know anything about you–you remain positive even amidst the toughest circumstances!

Share your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s