Tales of The Finger – The Truth Hurts

I could also call this post, “I Miss My Swords.”

I was reading this article today about how writing can help people overcome emotional and physical pain. It resonated with me, because I was cursing at myself this morning as I drove to the office about the pain in my finger because of my stupid injury (which I exacerbated last night trying of all things to scoop the litter boxes).

It’s not just the physical pain that bugs me so much about this injury, it’s very much the completely stupid and avoidable way in which it happened. I did it to myself. Because of my stupidity, I wasn’t able to rappel into Natural Trap Cave nor have I been able to work on my sword skills – at least not very well.

It was really foolish and totally avoidable what happened. It was hot. I was tired. I was hungry. And the stupid tent stakes I was driving into the ground kept hitting rocks.

So I snapped. I flung the mallet I was using to the ground in utter frustration so that I could get a proper hammer. Alas, the mallet I was using had this hook on the end for pulling tent stakes. The hook caught my finger and tore it open.

My right index finger. Perhaps my most important finger, aside from my thumb.

Fifteen seconds of blind rage, five stitches, and an emergency room bill, and two months later I’m still paying the price.

I feel bad about it. Genuinely awful. I’m getting down on myself about it.

Sure, one could argue it’s fine. These things happen. Everyone has a blow-up once in a while. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Consider the circumstances.

Yet, people look up to me. Some follow my example. I can’t be snapping like this.

I hadn’t really realized how much it was getting to me until it occurred to me this morning that it’s not time constraints that have necessarily kept me from resuming my sword lesson. It’s not the pain from the injury itself either, because there’s plenty to do without a sword in my hand.

It’s the guilt.

How can I be a proper swordsman if I’m capable of such blind fury? This wasn’t an isolated incident, either. This is something that happens to me, infrequently, yes, but it happens.

If I had a sword in my hand, what would happen?

Bad things, probably.

Or maybe not. Maybe I can control it. Maybe. I had rather hoped that studying the sword would help me curb these moments. But I don’t know if it can.

I’ve tried to make light of the whole thing. I hope you’ve enjoyed the “Tales of the Finger” series of stories. But I feel like I’m just denying the truth.

I did this to myself and I have the capacity to hurt myself or others.

Maybe practicing the sword isn’t for me.

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