2015 I ruptured my Achilles. I was dancing for a Bhangra team and during practice I jumped up, went down to a squat, and when I jumped back up I heard the infamous pop. I’ve stepped away from Bhangra teams now — I still dance, but not on that competitive level. I’ve slowed down and found new hobbies. No matter what I do, in the back of my head I know that the rush and excitement I felt of a crowd going crazy will never match what I do now. It was my drug. It was my go to and my best friend. I have so many memories attached to it. Yet that damn pop ruined so much, and sadly that’s my last real memory of it.
I’ve been religiously going to the gym now. I eat cleaner and I’m trying to fix a lot of my bad habits. A few weeks ago while doing stretches and my warmups, I felt a pull, that same pull, and that instant fear took over my mind. I remember sitting on the yoga mat trying to “man through the pain”, but it was too much and I went limping over to do upper body. I finished that day’s workout, but I was scared.
The pain has been on and off. Even when I am enjoying myself I have to remind myself to take it easy. It’s almost funny how injuries and internal pains have so much overlap. With any injury it either leaves a scar and that scar becomes a story or you have some type of pain that stays with you; in other ways it’s never the way it was before the injury. Relationships work the same exact way: sometimes our habits scar our partner or us. Then when someone new comes around we keep that “injury” in the back of our minds so we can never behave the way we used to.
Just like our bones and muscles, constant pain to our heart causes damage. The damage I felt was from, of course, relationships and friendships and situations that life put me through. The added pain came when I felt like no one saw the areas they were wrong in. The other level of this pain came when I realized the people who I would take a bullet for probably would not do the same. I think the nail in the coffin came when I felt misunderstood — and this isn’t some Bollywood version of “I am misunderstood.” I mean literally when I got into fashion, I became “materialistic.” When I started going on dates, I was looked at as a “fuckboy.” When I did things with good intentions, I was told I have a fucked up personality. When I messed up, it became a huge issue, whereas if someone else made the same mistake people made excuses for them.
The problem with physical injury and words is that they stay and linger.No matter what apologies I have received and mends people have tried to make, it will forever stay with me. I guess just how I finished my workout that day at the gym, I am going to have to do the same with weight in my heart. With time things better, but they probably won’t go back to what they were.