I'm Almost Glad I Sprained my Ankle

I sprained my ankle last week. A grade 3 sprain at that. I've spent the last several days at home getting bedrest, waiting for the swelling to go down. I guess you'd think I feel pretty bad about this, and I guess I kind of do, but to be honest, the very first thing I thought when I got home was "at least I don't have to go to work tomorrow".

Even before my injury, I was considering asking my boss to reduce my hours, or maybe even just quitting all together. I have no idea how I'd justify that to anyone. I like my job, and I'm good at it, and I need the money. I don't know how to explain it to anyone in a way that won't make me come off as lazy or irrational.

Well, now I guess I don't have to justify it, or at least I didn't have to for a little while. I had a doctors note that justified it for me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was (am?) going through a depressive episode. Even if you can admit that to yourself, you can't just tell your boss you can't come into work that day because you're depressed. You can't just tell your loved ones that's why you can't prepare meals or keep up with hygiene or want to stay in bed all day. Having a severely sprained ankle kind of gives me an excuse for doing what I already wanted to do anyway.

Things have improved a little bit since then. Swellings gone down a lot. Was finally able to leave the house last night and earlier today, but walking's really awkward even with the boot on. I'm supposed to go back to work tomorrow. I'm not thrilled about it, honestly I'm not even sure what they expect me to do there since walking and standing is still a challenge, but the overwhelming feeling of dread has waned, so that's probably a good thing. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.