after feeling frustratingly useless, and struggling with guilt about not being helpful enough, i found a way to work in the garden today. the bottom of my cast is covered in mud from where i rested it on the soil, but i managed to fill three yard-waste bags.

the impact of a broken foot is subtle. it's putting tidying and chores off until later, only to realize later is 5 weeks from now. it's not being able to run to my toddler who is screaming in the park behind my house when the neighbours dog has startled/scared him. it's a middle-of-the-night fight with brendan, that still has me feeling sad, even though i know the words exchanged where said in frustration, and were not sincere.

it's not that i don't know how to manage the next 5 weeks, it's that i don't want to. i wish i was just having a normal may, as planned, and not all this crap.