My first running post

And here we are, four posts in, finally talking about running.  I suppose it would have been better to begin with a positive running experience, but I prefer to keep it real.  I never said running was a cure, or even always positive. Shit, sometimes it is really negative.

If Cheryl Strayed hiked the PCT to escape her problems, I run out my door to escape mine. But you can't escape them, eventually they will land even harder right on your damn stubborn head.
And then what?

And then you really face them.

Because they are YOUR problems.

We can wake up in a fine mood and then we spill milk everywhere. Of course it's chocolate milk and of course it goes everywhere. No big deal, right?

Wrong. BFD.

And that's when I lost it. I lost it over spilled milk, milk that  I  spilled. It was downhill from there. My hair trigger activated, I was an angry disaster ready to blow. Crawling the walls to get out, begging to hit the pavement. Certain that I could pound the fury out of me. Fast forward to toddler begging to go too, a shoe tantrum, and finally getting out the door even more frustrated. Almost turning back because that beautiful boy keeps yelling at me to play I spy. And then .80 of a mile in needing to go pee pee...which happened behind a building because it of course it is Memorial day and everything is closed.

Sigh.

I've cried a lot. I've been beating myself up. Why can't I be stronger, more patient? I love my son so very much. And yet I keep losing my ability to hold on to what little sanity I have left. My run actually amped up my anxiety. Because I told you there is no cure, only self care and symptom management. And I have not been doing either.

I can lay out all of my carefully constructed excuses. None matter. I am not taking care of myself.

You wanted to read how I run and manage my depression beautifully. How I am so great at getting myself to therapy consistently. How I don't allow the ebb and flow to overtake me until it is too late and I am swallowed up by another downward spiral. Happy ending coated in glitter and rainbows.

I  love glitter, but reality isn't always so sparkly.  Each day is a new battle.  Each day I am running.

I think it should start becoming clear that I don't always run in my awesome running shoes.  Sometimes I just run to the bedroom or bathroom, anywhere to hide.  Wishing I didn't have to come out and face the fact that I still have to be ok somehow.  I still have to be mommy.  I still have to be a wife.  I still have to breathe in and out.

I think today will be one of those days I just breathe in and out.  That is today's success story.  Maybe tomorrow we can try running outside again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

There is no ALONE

Chaotic Ramblings

Happy Sobriety Year to me!!!