Broken back

I fell off the wagon a bit over the festive season and never got around to posting anything but I’ve recovered a little!

Today I’ve woken up feeling sore and I’m thinking of things I could do to not feel like that. I think the cold makes pain feel worse. 

If you have an injury the best thing you can do is make the surrounding body bits better. I know this because I’ve tried all the massaging, stretching and painkillers variations out there and in the end nothing eased the pain like getting stronger. This is anecdotal but true.

Of course you have to go through other pain to get there so it’s a double edged sword really. It’s also hard to feel like I’m fitting in all the things I want to do and be active.

Or is that a lie and I’m just lazy. 

People keep telling me to do swimming and pilates. Part of me thinks a spinal injury is a good opportunity to have an intervention with my body and the other part cringes at the thought.

I haven’t made many huge attempts to get moving again. I dabbled in Youtube’s finest array of water aerobic tutorials specifically aimed at people with broken backs when I was on holiday but then a GIANT bug flew out of the water next to me causing me to run for my life with enough frenzy to probably undo all the water aerobic healing.

It literally broke the water barrier. It exploded out of the pool. It had serious weight to it, this bug. 

Last month I felt like this too, perpetually uncomfortable and stiff and at the end of my tether about it. You’re not yourself when you’re in pain. Of course as a twenty-something girl I booked a massage and figure this will solve my problems. I scoured Google long and hard for the Ultimate Local Pilates Guru.

That is the beauty of living in the city. I miss all the good places to walk my dog back home, and knowing everybody in the pub, but in the city if you want something you can go and get it that day. Crazy.

I’ve never had a sports massage before but I think that’s what happened. I know nothing will ever top it. I’ll be chasing masseuses to hurt me like that for the rest of my life, seeking that first gateway massage.

It felt like my skeleton was being used as a kitchen utensil against my body. Like the action of scrubbing clothes on a clothes board or tenderising meat. Is that what’s going on during a sports massage? Are you being tenderised? In the end it was amazing and I found myself gushing about how keen I was to commit to pilates (??) 

I tried pilates once before and it was similar to when I tried a ballet conditioning class and felt the muscly bits of my body crying – maybe this contributed to my injury… I think this about everything now. Was this where it all began?  Did planking do this to you? 

For Christmas I bought a productivity planner to guilt myself into admitting to my productivity planner that I’ve done fuck all exercise today. The fear led me to buy a fitness membership. 

Not for the full blown gym. Haha! The thought still makes me nervous and I’m unsure if I can go unsupervised/too skint to do the whole personal training thing. Only for swimming and it was still £15 a month (painful). 

I got carried away with my newfound productivity and tried to do both swimming and pilates in the one day. Before I continue with this diary any further it’s important for me to say now that time does not seem to pass for me the same way it does for other people. It’s a disease. I was born late. Literally, two weeks, and it hasn’t stopped since. One day I’ll be diagnosed as late.

I heard RuPaul say he realised he was addicted to the stress of being late and that’s how he broke the cycle. I picture myself when I’m late and it’s the worst feeling ever. There is no way I am addicted to that feeling. 

And so I was late to pilates, trying to discreetly burst in with enough effort to prove my desire to be there but also not disrupt anybody’s zen. The class itself was as bizarre as I’d hoped.

We pulled bigger and more rubbery versions of those evil stretch band/physio souvenirs over our heads to stretch our backs. Mine kept pinging over my still-wet-from-swimming bun and I prayed to be delivered from the human energy field of Bridget Jones. 

I kept thinking of when people would blow up condoms and put them over their faces on the school bus and how strange children are. I described this to a friend who asked me ‘you know the feeling when you put a condom over your face?’. Well, no.

Wish me luck I keep it up! The pilates, not trying to put a condom over my face. Don’t ever do that.

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