If patience is a virtue, can I get another cookie?

I do think I’ve put in enough time to my leg, which is still being treated as an addendum to the rest of my body. The thing just won’t catch up to the rest of me; it’s keeping me laggng behind where I want to be. So I sigh, shrug my shoulders and white knuckle it just that much longer to get to the other side where the grass is greener.

I’ve stopped asking for help, excepting rides to work, which really isn’t even serving me since I can work from home just as easily. In some ways it’s for my sanity; I haven’t much wanted to be at home lately, as all I tend to do is eat, play internet games, and watch movies. Pretty unproductive and when you consider I’m semi-mobile with a walking boot, that’s pretty pathetic.

Oh wait – I did spend two days cleaning my house. That was the most exhilirating thing I’ve done in awhile.

But in some ways it was easier being stuck on the couch managing pain. Now that I CAN move, I’m more impatient than ever.

I spent the weekend watching “Battle on the Bank” – banked track roller derby’s annual competition and while it was great to watch, it made me frustrated. I guess this is why I’ve been shying away from practices. It just pisses me off to not skate and I find myself thinking about who I’d like to hit the most when I get back on the track – in some ways taking out aggression, and in other cases challenging skaters I want to learn from. I’m ready to be a chew toy for the track again.

Alas, it will still be awhile. At least two more weeks before I’m driving and doing Physical Therapy and then we’ll see. That stubborn fibula is still broken and until it’s right as rain, I wait. I look forward to next week when slip on my skates just to feel them; sit on my couch and roll back and forth back and forth. All I want is to feel them on me. The weight, the familiarity.

(I’ll be good, I promise.)

Being patient is not something I’m used to. Yet here I am being forced to accomodate my irritation, having to keep myself in check every five seconds to avoid doing something I shouldn’t. And then I go back to the night of the injury; that usually shuts me up.

Or I think about the many (too many) injuries right now, and wondering how many is too many before I stop and do something else. Conflicting perspectives, I’m probably just punchy, waiting for all of this to be overwith so I can move on to the next step. Moving back to California? Getting a new job? Switching leagues? Thinking out loud again? No bueno.