From Scar to Wake-Up Call: The Life Lesson Behind My Foot Injury

Let me tell you a story about a lightbulb.

Yes, a lightbulb.

Last year, in one of my independent-woman moments, I decided to change a bulb myself. It fell, shattered, and like any strong, capable woman who doesn’t always slow down enough, I stepped right onto a piece of it. A sharp one. The kind that disappears into your foot like it has rent-free plans to stay.

I felt it.

I tried to check it.

Other people tried to check it.

But nothing turned up. So, I convinced myself maybe it came out on its own. Problem solved...or so I thought.

Life Carried On… Until It Didn’t

I went back to life as usual, walking, working, even going barefoot on the beach in Pigeon Point like I didn’t have literal glass history in my foot. I thought I was fine. Until I wasn’t.

Eventually, the discomfort circled back. I was limping more often than I was walking, but I kept brushing it off. Until an acting Team Lead at work took one look at me and said, “You need to go to the doctor. Now.”

I did.

It turned out I needed minor surgery.

The doctor recommended sick leave.

I didn’t take it.

Because of course I didn’t.

The Healing I Rushed Through

Instead, I went to work like nothing happened, limping through the office on a fresh incision. The guys I work with were considerate about it. They’d fetch my car and bring it to the front like I was royalty with a hobble. But in truth, I was just stubborn.

The doctor told me to use Vitamin E on the scar to soften the healing. I didn’t. And it did what scars do when ignored: it healed hard. The kind of hard that feels tight and awkward and a little angry when touched.

The Re-Flare (Also Known As: Why I’m Limping Again)

Recently, I decided to go walking with my nephew.

Cute, right? Bonding, fresh air, gentle movement.

I wore Yeezy slides instead of sneakers. Mistake #1.

The scar got irritated. It felt bumpy and tight, so I thought, “Maybe if I file it down just a little…”

Mistake #2.

Then I soaked it.

And now, I’m back to limping...again. Full circle.

What This Really Taught Me (Besides to Stop Filing Scar Tissue)

Here’s the truth that sat with me hard this week:

These are the only feet I’ve got.

There’s no replacement foot. No swap out. No extra.

And I’ve spent a lot of time ignoring what hurts, physically and otherwise, thinking that if I can outrun it, maybe it won’t catch up.

But it always does.

I have a habit of treating my body like it owes me more than I’ve given it. And that’s not strength. That’s avoidance dressed up in ambition.

Why I Think I Ignore My Own Pain

I realized something about myself:

When my mobility is threatened, whether it’s my back, my foot, or whatever else, I go into this mode like I have something to prove. Like I can show the pain that it doesn’t win.

But pain doesn’t play by those rules.

Pain doesn’t back down because you’re brave.

And sometimes, being brave looks like resting.

Like taking the damn sick leave.

Like not filing a healing scar with drugstore tools.

Final Thoughts (A Little Less Final Than My Foot Tried to Be)

As calculated as I am, I still do dumb things sometimes. I know I’m not the only one. So, this is your reminder...and mine...that pain is a messenger, not a weakness. That we get one body, and we don’t always treat it like the miracle it is.

So, from now on, I’m trying to do better.

Trying to listen sooner.

To rest fully.

To take the damn Vitamin E.

And if this post stops just one of you from walking barefoot on emotional glass or literal broken bulbs then it was worth every limp.

Tell Me I’m Not Alone

Ever ignored something small until it became a whole thing? Tell me in the comments. Let’s normalize healing without guilt and maybe swap scar care tips while we’re at it.

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