One day I'll have it all. // Williamson

The first day of the rest of my life

I obviously wasn't planning on things to take that turn here. But I felt the need to talk about it.

I might not show it a lot in what I write, but Viv has a very special place in my heart, and the idea of never seeing her in red and white again is killing me.

It hurts a whole bunch but we're all gonna be okay.

To someone no words could ever pay justice to. To Vivianne fucking Miedema ♥︎

———

From this point on, my life only seemed to go downhill.

The first month after my injury was perhaps the toughest. The initial shock and adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind a void filled with pain, frustration, and uncertainty. Every day felt like an uphill battle as I struggled to come to terms with the reality of my injury and the impact it was having on my life and career.

Physically, the pain was relentless, a constant reminder of my body's limitations and fragility. Simple tasks that I had once taken for granted now seemed insurmountable challenges, each movement sending waves of agony coursing through my injured ankle.

Emotionally, the weight of my circumstances threatened to overwhelm me at every turn. The fear of the unknown loomed large in my mind, casting a shadow of doubt and anxiety over my every thought and action.

Would I ever be able to play football again? Would I ever regain the strength and agility I had once possessed? The uncertainty gnawed at me, eroding my confidence and sense of self-worth with each passing day.

And then there was the guilt - a heavy burden that weighed heavily on my conscience, threatening to consume me from within. Guilt for letting down my team, for letting down Leah, for letting down myself. Guilt for the missed opportunities, the shattered dreams, the what-ifs and could-have-beens that haunted my every waking moment.

And it was a guilt I only managed to express through anger. I was constantly angry. At anyone. At anything.

It could be from the smallest of inconveniences - a misplaced crutch, a spilled glass of water, a missed call - triggering a torrent of frustration and resentment that threatened to engulf me in its wake.

Leah bore the brunt of my anger, her unwavering patience and understanding serving as a beacon of light in the darkness of my despair. No matter how harsh my words or how irrational my actions were, she remained steadfast in her love and support, weathering the storm of my emotions with grace and compassion.

But even her boundless patience had its limits, and there were moments when I could see the strain of my turmoil reflected in her weary eyes. Each outburst, each moment of rage, was like a dagger to her heart, leaving behind scars that I feared would never fully heal.

And yet, despite the pain and the anguish, Leah never wavered in her commitment to stand by my side, offering her love and support without reservation. She was my rock, my anchor in the storm, and I knew that without her, I would be lost.

But try as I might, I couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that threatened to consume me from within. The days stretched on endlessly, each one blending into the next in a monotonous cycle of pain and despair. And as the weeks turned into months, I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of my own making, unable to find a way out.

Then, I learned something. Something that turned all my anger into pain and suffering.

That turned all my harsh words into tears, all my outbursts into cries for help.