Not So Happy

I did not want to admit that I've been feeling really depressed about my accident, especially concerning my ankle. I want to be positive: I'm trying my best to imagine myself getting better and stronger because of all this, but I also must admit the less-inspiring truth that my physical state bothers me on a daily basis.

I've noticed myself growing depressed. One of my problems is I have a really hard time asking for help. It's like the earlier post I made about not wanting to admit what a crushing disappointment I felt after my first half-marathon; I am going through another major disappointment that I'm trying to hide with a smile. My ankle is not back to normal after my car accident in September of last year. It's been over five months. It is fine to walk on, but it seems like after I run, it hurts at some point, sometimes to the point of limping. I have been really patient and, such as in my previous post, I'm trying to view all this as a blessing to get stronger. I wait and wait and wait. But I can't get strong in the way my body craves if I can't run. My little assisted push-ups and pull-ups are great; they certainly don't bother my ankle and I'll stick with them, hopefully for my whole life. I'm happy I'm getting something positive out of this, but I am in tears right now, and they are not tears of happiness. This is my breaking point. I know it might sound strange to some people to miss running, but for me, running is one of my greatest stress relievers. I am not the greatest or fastest runner, but running does more for me than a whole boxful of antidepressants ever could. It is time to finally admit to my growing depression. It's time to stop short-circuiting the sadness I feel every time I think about it.

I have an uninsured motorist policy which means that I can receive medical help from my own insurance, as the man who caused the accident did not have insurance. I feel afraid to even ask for help from my own insurance, which is a feeling I'm just going to have to fight. I guess I'm afraid that getting any help at all will be extremely difficult and that I will accept this as it were simply my lot in life. But I need help. I can't just do my own exercises and hope for the best anymore. Almost every day, I think about how I wish I would've driven a different route the day of my accident. Maybe that sounds like I'm whining. There's a part of me that always reminds myself I'm lucky I wore my seat belt because I could have died, but if I can't run, there is a part of me that will never feel as alive.

I have been calling my insurance rep, but he hasn't answered or called me back and to be honest, there is something about his voice that intimidates me and makes me feel afraid to ask for anything. I met him in person once and felt much more comfortable with him then. Maybe it is something the phone does to his voice. Regardless, I can't give in to intimidation. I am writing now as a very direct message to myself on Monday when I call him again: ASK FOR HELP. Make it clear that I need a doctor. I am fortunate to have this coverage available to me, and I can get help, even if it does mean I have to jump through dozens of hoops. This is my choice to make if I want to get back to being a runner.