I am a typical Aries girl. An overachieving busy body. I’m constantly running from meeting to meeting, over committing myself socially and working into the late hours to catch up on my typical shitload of work. Admittedly, I thrive on this. I get high on completion. I love getting shit done. Lots of shit! Stay up til 3am-to-feel-that-sense-of-accomplishment kind of shit.
But sometimes a higher power steps into my life and interrupts/fucks up my shit. And that’s okay- because I truly believe that there are life lessons to be learned on a regular basis. I believe that these lessons present themselves daily, as faint whispers that only those with open minds and and ears- can hear.
Well, last week for me- my whisper sounded like this: “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!”
As I dragged my foot out from under the wooden edge of the 60 lb Muuto Nerd Stool which had Julien’s backpack filled with about 65 hard cover library books hooked onto it- I lay on the floor (amid my typical, post-dinner clean up, straighten up the house, get the kids ready for bed, madness), writhing in pain and screaming my favorite word a few more times to alleviate the pain**. Mike scrambled to get me an ice pack and the kids of course, didn’t flinch at all. Because mommy laying on the floor screaming FUCK is clearly nothing out of the ordinary in our home.
Staring at the ceiling in silent tears, I thought “how the fuck was I going to wear those cute new Chloe sandals I just fucking bought for summer!?”(but then I remembered that they are open-toed, whew!).
But seriously- at that moment, when I was down- I thought about how crazy this year so far has been very busy for me. From the seemingly non-stop flow of interesting opportunities that have come my way- some realized- some not- my stars have been aligning and positivity is vibrating like crazy in my galaxy. I’ve been inspired. I’ve been thrilled. I’ve been hopeful. But life has been an absolute fucking whirlwind. Crazy is the new normal. And juggling eight projects all in varied stages of starting and completion- has had me running at full speed. It was inevitable that it was going to blow! DUH.
My big toe- ballooned up to the size of a golf ball. The pain from the pressure of my growing hematoma prevented me from sleeping that night. There was NO WAY I was going to poke a hot paperclip through my nail to relieve the pressure- nor sit in a germ-filled ER waiting to have the same thing done, then get infected and go gangrene and completely lose my toe/foot/lower leg/whole leg. So instead- I was going to R.I.C.E. it and power through it.
After 267 Advil Liqui-Gels; 5,321 Instagram posts (#toemageddon); not leaving the house for 2 days, laying in bed with my foot raised on 27 pillows; and bitching at Mike 9,657 times for the most random things (not opening the curtains wide enough warrants verbal domestic violence, DUH), the swelling decreased and the pain diminished.
The aftermath? What Victor calls, a “zombie toe”; a forced acceptance that my relationship with Jimmy Choo is dead for the summer ; an appreciation for gel toenails and the reminder to SLOW THE FUCK DOWN.
That my mile-a-minute approach isn’t the best idea and to embrace the shit I gotta get done- one pile at a time.
**I gave birth, naturally twice- and uttering the word FUUUUUUUCK repeatedly, got me thorough it. It’s my body’s natural reaction to pain and I swear by it and I urge you to try this method.