So I have been having a little difficulty getting myself out of the house. Every year like clockwork, a dark curtain descends. Seasonal Affective Disorder wallops me upside the head like a fastball of despair and torpor. Heaped upon the lethargy and intermittent hopelessness is the yearly refrain of self recrimination: “You should have seen this coming.”
It’s really easy for somebody to say, “Just make yourself go take a walk/go to the gym/do yoga/>insert feel-good activity here< everyday.” I’m positive I’ve even said that to others, in the smug tone of the unaffected. I know I have said it to myself more times than I can count, undoubtedly in a contemptuous tone. And I don’t know how to explain, its just not that easy. Something in my brain chemistry shuts off as soon as the sun disappears. It makes you feel like you’re legitimately going crazy. One day you’re upbeat and energetic; the next, you’re sucking up carbs like a Hoover and seem to be unable of movement – unless it’s to the couch or fridge. It’s almost imperceptible, that is until the sun comes out again, and I feel like someone slipped me some speed.
Having said that, I don’t quite know how I ended up out for a walk on a day as craptastic as today. First, snow. Pretty, walkable. Before we left it had turned to sleet and finally to my worst enemy: cold winter rain. But we were already out, and you don’t say no to a German Shepherd all leashed up and ready for her walk. So we walked.
At some point during our quick mile, I realized where I was this time last year. Just cleared to leave the boot and crutches behind, eagerly looking forward to physical therapy, walks with the dog, and getting back to life in general. I remember trying to walk this same stretch; how plodding and hoppy and downright painful it was. How I could only go half a mile at first, then had to rest and ice my Achilles after. How the slight rightward grade in the path seemed so uneven and scary to my stiff and newly repaired foot. The absolute concentration it took to maintain the heel to toe gait, remembering to finish up on my toe with each stride. The pain of strengthening those atrophied muscles and tendons again.
Today it was effortless. I could have walked five miles if I’d had the desire to. The Achilles pain that had been my constant cranky companion – gone. Not a trace of it. I thought to myself, “Look how far you’ve come! Remember what this was like last January?” Maybe an approach of wonderment and gratitude will be the trick.
I dare you to say no to this face.
Haglunds Recovery 