The reality

I was depressed when I first joined the Injury Support Group. It had set in me so hard that I could easily deny it, but those who met me quickly picked up on it. As it was told to me, "You looked pretty wound tight."
No kidding? I had gone through two years of increasing pain, with less and less understanding and sympathy every day from those around me. They just couldn't understand why I wasn't getting better. To be honest, neither could I.
Then a painful surgery, and more frustrating recovery, resented for my existance every day.

I didn't want to accept or even think about what was happening to me inside. My eyes teared up for no reason. All I wanted to do was sleep for days. I refused to even let myself think of what the future might hold. When I did, the idea of living from a wheelchair or bed .. Terrified me.
I forced myself to think of a man I'd met years before.
He had been test pilot in WWI, and crashed. A paraplegic, he had made a fortune from his bed in real estate. His mind stayed sharp, and happy. -- I told myself I could do that.
The reality was that that was far from my abilities even then.