Long-time no speak. So my year started pretty, well, great! I was feeling like I had direction, I had this crazy energy and felt the fittest I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Then after a week of crazy work hours and going hard at the gym, I sprain my knee. Not too bad right…? So two weeks off work resting and I’ll be back in the game. Those two weeks felt like the longest of my life but it was only two weeks right? Wrong… two more weeks. Shit this was bad news, but still I could do a month. Then I’d be back in the game! So brings me to now, 7 weeks since the initial injury and we’re looking at knee surgery and 3-6 months post recovery and rehab. That’s nearly half a year out of action. This has meant having to leave my job at Disneyland earlier than expected and a full pelt, pretty harsh pause in my life.
Since the age of 16 I have always had a job. I would go to school in the week, attend every drama, music, dance, head girl, prefect event and class there was. Friday nights I would go out and socialise and be very tired and sometimes hungover (over the age of 18…obviously…) the next morning for my 4 hour theatre company rehearsals. Id then spend my Sunday’s working as a waitress. And repeat. And from then on my life has been an absolute whirlwind of craziness. And I’ve loved it. So being physically unable to walk and told by your body to stop came as a bit of a rude shock.
Injuries are fucking shit. They just are. If you do any form of sport or have an active lifestyle, chances are, you’re going to have or will suffer an injury at some point in your life. Obviously the pain is rubbish and being unable to walk is so awful. But the mental battle is one that I feel needs addressing. It’s hard, damn hard. I want to talk about it because well, I like talking about things people don’t like talking about.
I first felt denial. In fact I walked on my knee in Paris for a full day and went out that evening after doing the accident in the morning all in complete agony because I was actually ignoring I had hurt myself. I went to the doctors the following morning and actually ordered him to change my time being signed off work from a month down to two weeks because of course, I knew more than someone who has trained in medicine for 7 years and there was nothing wrong with me. Of course I went back in two weeks and whilst rolling his eyes and looking at my knee he says “told you so “and signed me off for another month.
I felt loss of control. I hate being told what to do, especially when I’m being bossed around by my own body-how dare she! I felt as if there was a civil war going on inside me. My healthy, happy mind is telling me to go out and get on with my life and my body is just having none of it. Think R Kelly’s Bump N’ Grind but the opposite “My mind’s telling me yes, but my body, my body’s telling me noooooo”.
I felt obsessive. So as a result of loss of control over certain aspects of my life, I consequently became obsessed with the things I could control. My weight. To be honest I have obsessed with this aspect of myself since being a teenager but over the years I feel I have developed a healthy relationship between food and exercise. And before my injury I never worried too much about what I ate as I knew I could sufficiently burn it off with my exercise routine but now that aspect is gone. So I did become a little obsessed with putting any weight on. To be honest I’m probably the slimiest I’ve been in a long time but I do need to keep reminding myself to not be ridiculous about this and eat some damn ice cream sometimes.
I felt frustrated, angry and just bloody annoyed at the whole situation.
I felt sad and depressed that it prevented me from performing and doing what I love. And truthfully this terrifies and excites me at the same time. It’s confirmed that I’m missing something inside myself if I can’t express myself and perform.
But really, it just gives you a whole lot of perspective. This could be so much worse, I mean really! Every man and his dog has had knee surgery these days! Other than my temporary sore knee, I’m a healthy, happy, lucky human bean. I just can’t imagine the struggle people with mental and physical disabilities go through every single day. I mean, where are the lifts at!? It takes me 5 times as long to walk upstairs as regular people but what about the people in wheelchairs or someone with no legs at all. Can they just not ride the metro? Or go to the theatre? Or navigate around a small restaurant? Or use the toilet because there is only one and it’s down 45 steps, through a door for mice and guarded by a sleeping dragon? It’s really not cool and something needs to be done about it. But massive respect for anyone who finds doing everyday tasks hard due to physical or mental battles. Because you have to work a hell of a lot harder than the rest of us to just keep up and I think you’re all pretty awesome superheroes.
So to wrap this up, for anyone that shares an interest, I will be leaving my job at Disneyland in a week for the foreseeable future to go home and fix myself up until I come out all shiny and sparkly again. But for now I just want to thank all the incredible people that have helped me thus far during the past 7 weeks and thanks in advance for all the cups of tea and cuddles to come over the following months. And for you Disneyland, you sparkling, crazy beast, I’m going to miss you so much and all the people that fill you up every day. EPC you’re a bunch of weirdos, thanks for the mems, it’s been real.