In true ‘who killed Laura Palmer’ fashion, I still don’t know what is wrong with my shoulder. Due to scheduling mishaps and attempts at slaying the monster of a thesis, the issue slipped. I have another appointment for next week.
In the meantime, which is much longer than anticipated, I’m struggling with finding a way forward.
On account of my course, my entire life was put on hold this year. This wasn’t entirely a bad thing, but after staring into the bottom of way too many cocktails in Notting Hill, it’s starting to take its toll. This isn’t my life.
In a way, climbing saves me from myself. I need to climb. I need the distraction. I need the focus. I’m lost without it.
It’s ever so slightly difficult to get motivated when I’m out of shape, can’t train with my bad shoulder (not to mention constantly in pain) and the November monsoons are coming fast.
I escaped London for a quite day at the Roaches last Sunday. It felt odd to be climbing after so long away, but it reminded me of all that I miss.
The thesis is finished. Here’s to hoping for a resolution to the shoulder injury sometime soon.