Mind F$^#*

My apologies, but the title pretty much sums up last week, for me.

The week started like any other, I was pretty pumped. Mainly because I’m pretty pumped to start each week- typical type A personality trait.

I saw this quote one day on Instagram “Monday’s are fine, It’s your life that sucks”

That quote totally resonates with me…you decide how to feel, Am I right or am I right? Okay, sorry back to my point.

After my morning meeting, which I was totally into by the way, I got up to get some water. As soon as I got up, it hit me. Instant pain. Dull, excruciating pain.

Just breathe, I told myself. Hold in your tears and just breathe.

Although I probably looked cool and calm on the outside, on the inside I was starting to go crazy!

How can this be?! I panicked. I’ve had no pain since being prescribed the Cymbalta. None! No hugs, no nerve pain, nothing! And NOW, the pain is back? And not only back, back with a vengeance!

I tried to move my feet.

“Right, left, right left” I whispered under my breath.

All the while praying that no one could hear me. Each step taking so much energy, so much energy to walk like a toddler.

As the day went on, my energy and zest went with it. All I could think about was going to PT. I wanted to know what was going on, and prayed my therapist could give me some answers. Finally, 2:30 hit.

Thank god I thought to myself and left work.

PT wasn’t so great, as you could imagine. Yeah, it was good to be in an environment where I wasn’t a spectacle. But, it was still hard to be there. My well-meaning therapist looked at me with sad puzzled eyes.

“What happened? You were walking just fine Saturday.”

Tell me about it. I thought to myself. My body hates itself. What else is new?

After much thought she decided to begin on the bike.

Now, I’m not sure if you’ve been to a PT facility or not, but this bike that she had me on wasn’t like a typical spin bike; think more of a sitting elliptical. If your imagination can’t begin to fathom such I thing, I found a picture; Lucky you.


Side note – although home girl looks pretty stoked to get her PT on, I clearly felt differently.

Thankfully, I was able to pump my legs back and forth for a good 8 minutes before I had to stop. But, when the instructions came to get up, I had to use all of my upper body strength to pull myself out of the chair. (If you can’t envision it, think of your grandma getting up from a chair) Got it? Cool.

And, that’s when it happened.

She brought out the most ugly piece of metal I have ever seen….

A walker. And not a cool walker, one of the ones you see in the hospital that’s that size of the hallway with tennis balls on the bottom.

She definitely lost all of her cool points with me.

“Do you think it would be easier to use this?”

Yeah easier, but I’d rather be caught dead than use that thing!

“This is definitely going a step back from my goal of wearing heels” I tried to joke.

It fell on deaf ears.

I took the walker. Walking was more difficult than it had been all day. I couldn’t catch my breath. Even just standing there. I wanted to cry! I wanted to scream!

Why?! What is going on?! 6 months ago I was in the gym… At happy hours, enjoying my life, planning out my career! Training for another ½ marathon, and now, I’m in a rehab center, with a walker, barely able to catch my breath…. How does this happen????

“Ashley, do you think you can walk to the bed over there?”

The bed my therapist was referring to was maybe an entire 5 feet away.

“Sure” I said and tried to smile.

It was seriously the longest 5 feet of my life. I put all of my weight on that huge piece of metal. But, I made it, and sat down slowly.

“Do you think that this helps you?”

oh no, I thought I know where this is going.

“I want you to get one, just for home, to prevent falls.”


The only reason I agreed to PT was to work on me getting back in heels! And now I have to get a walker? I’m 30 not 60! Are you kidding me?

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I wanted to cry and pretend this wasn’t my life.

“Is this something that I have to decide today? I was finally able to whisper.

“No of course not, but I’m concerned about falls, especially at home.”


Fast forward to Wednesday night.

Exhausted from now three days of walking like a toddler, I decided on a smoothie for dinner. (Almost no energy is required to make a smoothie-tricks of the trade, baby. You’re welcome)

After making my “dinner” I started to clean up, As I went to walk to the fridge from the counter I realized I hadn’t moved. I tried to move my legs. No go. My legs weren’t getting the signal.


I stood there in the kitchen Almond milk in hand, willing my legs to move.


Come. On. Dammit! I screamed in my head… Lets GO!

No dice.

Finally after what felt like an eternity I gained a little bend in my knee and was able to take a step forward. Still hyper-extended like a toddler, but a step nonetheless.

Fuck my life, I thought. They better have pink walkers!

One thought on “Mind F$^#*

  1. I used my dad’s walker, complete with tennis balls, last year when I was at my worst!!! If they don’t have pink, you can always paint one pink 😉 I hope you can keep trying to start each day like you started the week. Sending positive thoughts and energy your way ❤ ❤ ❤


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