A watched kettle never boils

I've tried to deny it. I've tried burying it six feet underground. All these times since my spine injury went back, I've wilfully convinced myself that it's okay for life to be on hold once again, that it's okay to take detours, that it's okay to be always on the lookout for the moments that might make things worse for me and all the dreams I've, for the moment, left behind.

The strangest thing about growing as a strong woman is that it's hard to draw the line and pinpoint when it's finally okay to stop being strong. Because all this time it's as if you could conquer whatever life throws at you, that accepting defeat isn't part of the imprint you created of yourself. I've done that a lot in the past, well even recently. I know better than anyone that it's not always healthy to be strong, to be okay, to be accepting things as they are. Just when you thought being strong is always a good thing, it ain't.

Maybe I was paying too much attention to the pain, to what I am missing out things because of my injury. And because I've accepted it and was dealing with it just fine, I denied myself the right to be upset about it. I have hope for the best but an unbearable sadness started to engulf me in the recent weeks. I've tried to look back to when the injury first surfaced; it was 2016. I kept asking myself how come I was able to travel then? Was it not as painful as it is now? Maybe all the universe was asking from me was to fully accept that life's different for now until further notice. Maybe I've been too focused to reach the end of the tunnel when there's no end after all. I was waiting for an uncertain thing to take place and I've fully depended my life on it.

Last Wednesday was nothing new but I still felt awful to be in that situation again. When you wake up early in the morning, pain-free but torn between being happy and being fearful of until when will the pain-free state last. It is 2 days this time? Or 5 or a week? Who knows? But this time, I stopped watching the kettle, waiting for it to boil felt like forever. And there I told myself, "I don't want to wait". I just want to be reckless just like in the old times. I took a different path that morning; I was done setting aside the things I love doing because of fear. I took a short jog in my neighborhood and walked the rest of the time I stayed in what I label as the "best place to be in the mornings" in Cebu City. Pre-injury, I'd be running twice, thrice a week early in the morning before I hit the road to work. It's been almost two months since my last jog. I envy other countries because they have huge open spaces and parks where people could bike, jog, walk and even have a simple picnic with friends and family. We don't have many of those in my city. That's why this part of Cebu Business Park is my favorite. Tall skyscrapers might abound but the greeneries give a fresh vibe especially in the morning when the sun comes out and in the afternoon just before the sun sets. I always feel alive and energized after a few minutes of walking here.

All this time, I've been patiently waiting for the pain to fully subside, to fade into the background, but it's not happening today, tomorrow or in the next weeks. I've accepted that it might never happen in the next months or worse, my spine might not regain its vigor afterall. That day I allowed myself to be reckless not just by taking an overdue long walk/jog but also allowing myself to be sad when the pain resurfaces. erhaps not as reckless as in the old times, but I guess booking a flight for a trip outside Cebu for the first time in 3 years without the certainty of a pain-free lower back was I needed to remind myself that I'm alive. 🥰

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