I haven’t written in a while because I haven’t written in a while. Holy crap, can’t write a blog now. It’s been days…weeks…months…two and a half months, actually.
It has been 24 days since my last run…how much does that suck?
I am already 36 years old. Think of all the things that I am too old to try…to start…to hope for…
It has been nearly a year since my last serious bout with the blues. Who cares when it takes three days to get off the couch? 3 outta 365…that is 0.8%…and I let it define my whole person.
It has been 2 weeks since my last whole food juice…and only 2 hours since I nommed on some fried spicy chicken wings.
Do you see what I just did there? I spaghettied up a whole bunch of crap. I focused on yesterday’s shortcomings. I compounded little things to fabricate big things. I let a paper cut fester – then I decided to perceive it as a lost limb. I know I am not the only one who does this. But I let it convince me that I am a weak freak.
Time to waffle it out…separate the actual from the trash. I have read the book and don’t think it is a dude/chick thing. It is a balance thing. I am over spaghettied and under waffled.
Is this a bit of public therapy? Maybe. But what the hell, I pay for this space And, quite frankly, I know a couple of truths:
- I have never engaged in a public display of (tactful) confession (mine or another’s) that didn’t result in some type of good.
- Support of friends is priceless…and…friends can’t support you if they don’t know you need it.
- I am not the only one who feels this way…and…having others speak it is helpful.
- Speaking it = accountability
- I now know better how I feel since I have thought a good piece of it out on paper.
So, now what?
I write – even if I feel like I have nothing to say and even if it has been two and a half months since I have done it. If I waited any longer it might well be three months – and that is worse. So this may not feel good, but it feels better now than it would tomorrow.
I run tomorrow simply because it is already too dark right now. The husband will already say I have started back to soon Don’t want to further it by going after dark.
I love birthdays. I will continue to enjoy their function of celebration of a person’s existence. But screw their relevance to time passed and remaining time on the clock. My life is not a football game. I am not limited to, nor am I guaranteed, four quarters of quality playing time. I will continue to change-up the plays, enjoy the process, march up the field, and take a loss when necessary.
If occasional cycles of emotional unrest is the worst health complication I have right now, then I am amazingly fortunate. It could be so much worse. The cycles could be more often, more severe. My self awareness could be lower and I could be totally at my chemistry’s mercy. I could be in a place with no support, no understanding, no love, no grace. I am not. I am blessed beyond measure and I will not forget that.
I will remember that my body will behave like garbage if I fuel it with garbage…after Mexico
See what I did right there