I wrote a couple of days ago about regrets, and how I try not to have them. And how this latest act- the broken ankle- could be something that has no positives.
Well, I was wrong.
I have now got amazing arm muscles.
But that’s not it.
I have changed some-way from this. I have done something that, if you asked me to do months ago, I would have told you to get lost over. I have been walking around, slowed down by the crutches, with my arms aching from supporting my body weight. I have been using disabled doors, toilets, only able to go to cafes without stairs. I have had a rough time at Tube stations, a horrible time getting on and off trains and buses. I have had to deal with endless questions.
And first, I couldn’t walk ten minutes without a rest. I felt angry and saddened at myself and, in a self-pitying way, at the unfairness of it all. Worrying about not being able to run well again. Tearful at the frustration of everything taking so long. Annoyed at the endless questions, hence the endless lies.
Now I can walk for half an hour without a break. I have, more importantly, learned not to be angry when I do need to rest. I am impressed by anyone who has to deal with a mobility issues long term. And I have learned to be self-sufficient in a whole new way. Showering creatively, learning to get upstairs on one knee and one leg, carrying shopping or library books under one arm. But I’ve also got better at asking for help when it’s needed- accepting it.
I hate the idea that any negative experience is positive someway. That what doesn’t kill you will necessarily make you stronger. My ankle, for example, will be weakened for the rest of my life.
But I do look to see the things that won’t make me regret the things in my life, because regret is a horrible thing. So from this experience, I can only draw the positives: sexy arms, abilities I didn’t know I had, a patience I didn’t know I possessed, respect, and the willingness to ask for help.
Would I do it again?
Do I regret it?
I don’t think I should.