Seven Weeks In

I ruptured my achilles seven weeks ago. It sucks. There is no other way to say it. I probably wouldn’t mind so much, and maybe wouldn’t be so down, if only I didn’t have a wedding, a pre-wedding trip, and a honeymoon all in a few weeks. Not to mention I’m still putting in full-time hours at work (minus all the time for the physio and follow-up appointments). I can walk in my apocalypse ready boot now, and today I took a few small, shuffling steps in bare feet. But I’m so nervous. I’m scared to do something I’ve done my entire life: walk. And now I need find the courage. The worst part is the fear that I will re-rupture, and have to travel down the long road to recovery again; it’s a really dark road. It doesn’t help that I’ve spent a good portion of my recovery time trying to work on some writing, and not making any progress into the publishing world. It seems like an impossible feat to break onto the bookshelves, and for this reason, I’ve decided to try some of the self-publishing platforms out there. Maybe I’ll be luckier with the Internet than I have been with real Editors.

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