enough.

I am a Type A personality.

I think most people have probably already figured that part out, but I thought I'd mention it anyway. I have been this way ever since I can remember. In fact, one of my first memories that really stings is when I was put in the "lower" math group when I was in 5th or 6th grade. This may not seem like a big deal, but I went to a small religious day school - 20 kids in my whole grade. About 14 people were in the "upper" math group, and 6 of us were in the lower one. Mind you, I had never been in the lower anything. Just the year before, I was in Rogate (some sort of gifted group) and went to Rutgers to present something or another, and took the SATs as a middle schooler. I started kindergarten at 4 and was reading up a storm by the time I hit middle school. Failure was not something with which I was familiar. I remember crying for weeks at home, until I finally got to move up to the other group.

For college, I applied to one place, Early Decision. I've earned graduate degrees. I'm not what you'd call a "relaxed" person. If I can be better at something, I want to be. I feel guilty when I'm doing nothing. As a freelance writer, I have had to learn (not very well, either) that I cannot work ALL the time, that I have to schedule in "down time" as well. After 2009's colossal PhD failure, I have to admit, I was very nervous about MFA applications.

So when I was at the orthopaedic surgeon's office on Wednesday, I did not react well when I was told I had stress fractures in my 2nd metatarsal. I had suspected as much, since the top of my foot had been hurting, with some diffuse swelling since Monday. I admit, I actually started crying in the office. *sigh*. He told me it was common, and he's right - since my first metatarsal doesn't bend, the other metatarsals have to pick up the slack. And since my calf muscle and ankle muscle are weak on that side, that adds to my risk of stress fractures. So. Yeah. No impact activities for me. I can walk (slowly), swim and bike. I admit, though - I AM A BAD PATIENT. I will tweak guidelines and push it to the limit if told I can only do so much. I am stubborn and persistent and do my medical research. So my surgeon and his PA explicitly told me to TAKE IT EASY. And this time, I am following their advice. And it sucks. It is so hard to do nothing, to rest. I hate it. Walking slowly at a park the other day, I felt stupid and slow. I am an athlete; this is not who I am. Athletics is something I am good at, and to not be successful is a blow. I ran my first mile since March on Tuesday, and was finally starting to get my "runner legs" back - you know the kind; the visible quads and no flesh jiggling when you run. sigh. I'm planning on biking and swimming to at least stay in shape. And perhaps the elliptical for fitness maintenance. (ALL approved by my doctor, mom, so don't worry). Just when I wasn't planning on joining my gym right now because of the expenses I have for Columbia.

Talk about a metaphor for my life, right? At a time where my stress is so high I have crying jags from anxiety daily (about moving to Manhattan again, Columbia tuition and loans, leaving Chapel Hill, life, etc), I am being forced to stop and slow down. I am being forced to be still and silent, and rest my body and take care of myself. To nuture myself, when I typically castigate myself for never being enough, never doing enough, never achieving enough. I am being given time to reflect on what is: I am going to Columbia. And time to examine how I will put my life together in the city. And maybe, time to examine what's really behind my not wanting to leave Chapel Hill.....because it's incredibly strong, the pull not to leave.

And right now, maybe that's enough.