I had these amazing plans for my year. I was going to get fit and look fabulous and prance around NYC in my brand new wardrobe, signing books that I had written effortlessly and that my adoring fans were plying me to autograph so they could treasure my words forever. It all looked perfect in my dreams.
And then I started a running challenge that wore me down after a few weeks and one morning (read yesterday morning), I went running on the streets like I usually do and I fell – face planted on the streets – the same streets I’d imagined being renamed in my honor when I became famous. I bruised both knees, pretty badly, to the point where last night I couldn’t even kneel down to pray. I bruised the palm and elbow of my left hand (I still don’t know how that happened) but even more than that, I felt emotionally wounded. A maintenance worker who had just come out of the building I was running in front of, and who saw me go down on the sidewalk, he just stood there for the entire time I was on the ground, writhing in pain. Through my tears, I noticed him just staring at me, I noticed that he didn’t ask me if I was okay. Nothing. A postal worker who was some paces in front of me, she came back and asked me if I wanted an ambulance. By then, my knee was covered in blood and it wasn’t a pretty sight. But I said no. I mean, I tried to sit up and I could. I could stand, nothing seemed to be broken so she picked up my phone, asked me again if I was sure and she walked away. Only then, when I was firm on my feet and limping away in pain, did Maintenance Man ask me if I was alright. No, I’m not alright. You mean, you see me on the ground less than 5 feet from you and you can’t even come over to help me up. Really?
So that happened. I came home, cried myself to bits as I washed and dressed my wounds but there was no salve for my broken spirit. That is, until my mom, who somehow across the waves in Jamaica always knows when her baby is in trouble, called me to ask me if I was alright. I felt better then. Good enough to go to work and move on in anticipation of the next good thing.
Fast forward to today, I feel like I am making progress and then my phone falls. Screen shattered, splinters on the floor kind of fall. And I just started crying all over again.
It’s not the same kind of pain but this stuff is hard man. I was doing so well too Okay, so my dreams weren’t really coming true but I was convinced that I was on the brink. And then two days, it just feels like everything is coming to a crashing stop. And now, I don’t know if I want to leave home tomorrow. I can’t handle another fall of any kind. Pray for me.
Meanwhile, I hope you’re having a better week than me. Please, tell me something good.