Artsy Sciency Stuff

I kinda entered a A&S competition.
I kinda did it on the spur of the moment.
I'm not very artsy and even less sciency.

We'll see what happens.

With the injury, it made me realize that I need to find something that I like that is not fighting. I was made to realize that I've worried a couple of very good friends with my moral being below 0. Fighting defines me and it might be a bad thing, because when I can't fight I feel empty, I feel disgusting, I feel like I'm wasting oxygen and I know that the only reason I don't turn my steel on myself is because I have a Berserker that I want to see grow up to become a bad ass and because I made an oath to my brother. I love fighting, I love everything about it. But every good lover has a mistress, right? I think that having a "side hobby" will make me an even better fighter, by expanding my horizons.

Let's get artsy sciency.

I FOUGHT, I FOUGHT, I FOUGHT!!!!

Awesome day was awesome.
Saw great friends. Got good pep talks.
And FOUGHT!!!!
And I'm NOT in pain!

I'm still in the game.

Went to an event in Lions Gates yesterday and I FOUGHT!!
I'm almost not broken anymore!
Ok... I fought rapier, since my doctor told me to start low impact. And I fought sitting on my butt. But I DID IT.
I feared that I would never fight again, I don't fear anymore.
I have my life back.

Doctor's Verdict

I'm mending well.
I'm ok to start heavy slow work!!! But I need to stop at the first sign of pain or numbness.
I can't lunge yet, he likes the idea of fighting rapier on my butt.
Ultrasound shows that it's repairing good. The muscle that was very damaged is still in pretty bad shape but it didn't worsened.

He mentioned that he was very impressed that I didn't try to push myself. (He kinda knows me).
He thinks that I should be good to start at speed early next year.
I also mentioned my mood lately and the recurrent nightmares, panic attacks and nasty things that pop in my head and he recommended getting back on Effexor if fighting doesn't help.
I have no intention of going back on drugs. PTSD will not win.

Give me a fight, now

Counting the hours before I'm allowed to start training again...
Leg feels good.
Moral is edgy.
Senses are twitching.
Shield resting on my lap
Helm is looking at me on dinning table.
Armour is spread out on living room floor.
Sword is by my side.

3 hours to go and I will have reach the end of my "8 to 10 weeks" of no fighting. (Well... The 8 weeks at least)
Soon I will be whole and maybe I'll be worth something again.

Mom is a Viking

Daddy is in the Royal Canadian Air Force.
I'm wearing a princess dress
Mom is a Viking.

I'm melting inside