I’ve hurt myself. Not a cut or bruise; that’s usual. I’ve seriously hurt myself for the first time ever. Someone who has never broken a bone or had any sort of surgery in her life.

I fell. HARD. And x-rays show that while I haven’t broken anything, I’ve suffered a contusion. On my tailbone. And it HURTS.

And doing what, pray tell? Some fun, extreme sport? Running or hiking in nature? No. I was simply demonstrating wall sits to my sister. We were discussing squats, and different exercises, and I wanted to demonstrate a ‘wall sit’. It was early morning (7am, before coffee, before work), and I had *just* put on socks. This is an important detail, as my sister has new, slick laminate hardwood flooring. I just finished saying “I should probably not do this after just putting on socks…”; which I thought acknowledged that I understood the safety risk and was about to be super careful with my balance. No sooner had I made the statement & put my arms outstretched in front of me, did my feet sliiide out from underneath me & I came down. On my tailbone. Auuuuggghh.

My sister, visibly alarmed, came running up to me but did not touch me. I just laid there for a bit, and somehow crawled my way onto the plush carpeting of the living room. Where I laid in the fetal position until the initial pain subsided.

In asking me some questions, my sister determined I had a contusion. This is a word I didn’t know; but she said it just means a more serious bruise. I eventually found myself being X-rayed because the doctor I went to see decided to press against my tailbone saying “Does this hurt?”. Instead of a yes or no, I squealed in pain. She called for an X-ray. Turns out my sister was right.

That was Thursday. It is now Wednesday. I still hurt. Sitting in a car hurts. Bending down hurts. Needless to say, I have been dropping everything this week. With no one around to bend down & pick the item up for me. I went to scan my badge at my workplace entry, and DROPPED MY BADGE. Ugh. Beeeeennnnding down slowly is a struggle. I was standing in line at TSA, prepared for the security with my boarding pass & driver’s license in hand. And dropped my driver’s license. I have always been a vocal person, so of course there’s an “Auuuuggghhhh” as I slooooowly bend down to try to pick up this completely flat object that is laying against the floor.

I get that I didn’t break a bone still. I get that I am very blessed to have health insurance to go see a doctor, and have the medical facility have an x-ray machine right there for an instant diagnosis. I am very blessed to have the resources available to me. My work even allows me to work from home. Here’s my (admittedly first-world) problem: I can’t workout.

For me, working out is a stress reliever. I will sweat on the elliptical or treadmill; and I can *feel* all the toxins leaving my body. All the stresses of the day leave my body in that sweat. I am energized and feel this combination of happiness/strength. My mood is elevated. I do Pilates, and feel a sense of calm & confidence. I feel like I can take on whatever the world throws at me next. I’m READY.

But this time, this time is different. I’m about to go to South Beach, Miami in 3 weeks. My BFFs and I turn 40 this year. We’ve never gone away together, even though in our 20s, we always said that when we’re older & in our own worlds, we will take the time to vacation together to stay connected. These are my soul sistas. I love these girls, and they understand me. This is rare in life to find someone who understands you; may not always agree with you, but will stand by your side.

I’ve never been to Miami before. What I know of Miami is that J-Lo lives there, and people basically wear tube tops as both top & bottom. LOL.

The plan was to be in shape for the beach & the dance clubs. I’ve gained like 10 lbs in the last 6 months, and wanted to at least drop some of that.

This is my major discontentment with my injury. Not the struggle, the pain, the constant soreness. But that I can’t workout. Not just for my mental sanity, but for the shallowest of reasons. At least I can admit that.

But geez, turning 40, and taking longer to heal is a pain. Literally.

You’re not going to believe this. But I have perfect vision. That’s what the nice lady checking my eyes at the ophthalmology appt said.

Not near perfect vision. But ACTUAL PERFECT vision!

In fact, she showed me the level that is considered perfect vision, which I could read easily. Then, she showed me how I could read 2 more levels past the line that would signify perfect vision.

And here I was so worried that there might be something wrong with my eyes! I’ve never had an eye exam in my adult life. EVER. I had them in elementary school when I was a kid. So I didn’t know what to expect. But everything came out swimmingly!

Oh, also, today I learned that ophthalmology has 2 more Hs and one more L than I thought.