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A life-destroying message

Today it is a week ago, that I got a message that at that moment felt like was the end to my life.

I had expected to be told, that we could do some sort of surgery, and then I would fight my way back to an active lifestyle with less pain.

I knew, I would never come back to the same level, but I never doubted that I would find a way to do what I miss so much. It was never an option not to find a way back. It would look different for sure – but I would find a way.

A lot of people don’t understand, why it is so important to me, to get back. But working out and doing OCR was the first thing in my adult life, that gave me this kind of joy. It made me stronger both mentally & physically. My body didn’t hurt as much as it used to. I was happier. I had goals – goals that only affected me, and that only I could affect. This thing was MY thing. No one else.

And it is not like I don’t have things in my life that makes me happy. I do. I have an amazing boyfriend who I can’t imagine not having in my life. I am moving in with him as we speak and that makes me happy. I have 2 great jobs, I am making this awesome podcast with one of my best friends – and I have incredible friends. All things that makes me want to be here.

But everything I do is impacted by others. It is not something that is just mine. And I miss that. I can’t stand that I am not independent anymore.

I miss being able to clear my head with a long bike ride to a workout with awesome OCR people. I miss the feeling when I lift more than I thought I could. I miss throwing myself into obstacles challenging my fears and comfort zones. I miss the fun of running through muddy forests and laughing while crossing that finish line with your friends.

Instead I am now waiting for a referral to a #CRPS specialist in the hopes that I can at least get rid of some of my pain. Not remove it – but lessen it. Not getting me back to the active lifestyle but tackling chronic pain and limitations.

I should probably write out my whole story regarding my ankle – but it is so rough on my mental health dealing with this, that I struggle just writing this. But I also know, that writing is a way of dealing with things, so I should probably prioritize it.

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