burried without feeling in my foot

More and more, I'm recognizing my need for encouragement as part of the basic human need for encouragement. I realize that I've spent months twisting my neck from one side to other (one option to another) and have become sick with confusion, wanting only for someone to knock me down and shriek, "Just pick one, dammit!" I think I've been needing this kind of force.

Or, maybe I needed to do what I've gone and done: stuck my foot in the door and waited to see how long it took before I lost all feeling in that foot--before I decided that I'm much better off keeping my limbs in working condition. I want to be myself, afterall; and I want to be the one that God intended me to be. Temporarily disabling part of my body may only hold me back from running that one particular stretch of the race that I've been training for over the past 21 years. I guess it's been 22 now.

This is all very abstract, unfortunately. I'm keeping my distance from actually talking about the matter by putting up vague wording and the metaphorical language. It isn't that metaphors are dishonest exactly, they're just somewhat concealing. They only suggest at (and limit one's understanding of) the truth of a situation, rather than enabling a reader to fill in his/her own understandings of truth. This little paragraph, I fear, reverts back to my own esoteric tangent involving the metaphor vs. metonym conflict. Let's forget all I've written.

It's been about school and honors and all that I'm embarrassed to admit I've been burrying my head in the sand about.