Until we meet again…

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about taking time for yourself. Every so often, everyone needs to give themselves a big ol’ bear hug and treat themselves to some TLC.” ~Sean Covey

I feel like this every year, at least once, but especially around this time.  The crushing feeling of being overwhelmed by the shear force of life.  I’d like to think that it’s simply because of crunch time at work.  I’d like to think it’s just because of the amount of money needed to sustain a family through the holidays.  I’d like to think it’s the looming deadline of baby 3 approaching quicker than I can prepare.  I’d like to think that it’s the idea of endings and beginnings coming in a few short weeks.

I’d like to think it’s just one of these things.  But in reality it’s all of them…happening at the exact same time.

I tend to have problems feeling overwhelmed.  I can’t even go to places like Target during busy times because I immediately just want to shut down and get completely exhausted at the thought.  I wish I handled stress better.  I wish in the almost 34 years I have been alive, I would understand what to do in these situations, before they even get overwhelming.

I feel like I’ve lost my way.  I’ve been yelling way too much, trying to escape way too much, instead of getting to the root of why I feel this way and actually doing something about it.   I haven’t been that nice to my family. I’ve haven’t been that nice to my friends.  I haven’t been that nice to myself.  I simply haven’t been the person that I want to be, the person I know I can be.

I’m caught up, once again, with the feelings of inadequacy, longing, and simply “keeping up” with those around me instead of living my life in the simple way, with the simple moments that I crave so much.

It’s time to take a break, from all the competition, the Facebook syndromes, the constant need to be the best.  It’s time to refocus on the important things.  As I tell my students, I need to “worry about me” instead of constantly worrying about what is going on around me.

I need to stop thinking that if I’m not constantly “connected” that I am going to miss something important.  It’s because I’m so overly connected that I actually AM missing the important things that are going on all around me.

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Hello. My name is quitter.

“Life is painful and messed up. It gets complicated at the worst of times, and sometimes you have no idea where to go or what to do. Lots of times people just let themselves get lost, dropping into a wide open, huge abyss. But that’s why we have to keep trying. We have to push through all that hurts us, work past all our memories that are haunting us. Sometimes the things that hurt us are the things that make us strongest. A life without experience, in my opinion, is no life at all. And that’s why I tell everyone that, even when it hurts, never stop yourself from living.” ~Alysha Speer

I’m feeling lost and have no idea how I am going to find myself again. I feel transient, almost as if I am actually just on the outside looking in. I used to feel so put together. I used to feel like I had a purpose. I used to feel whole. I used to know who I was and now I simply have no clue.

I’ve been feeling this way for a while.  The more I try to think about why I’m feeling this way, the more confused and lost I feel.

It may have to do with being pregnant.   I have to admit, when I first found out I was pregnant I wasn’t thrilled. I had recently found running and had based some of my identity on being a runner (albeit a slow one). I was really worried about how this was going to affect my running. I realize it didn’t have to, but I was so worried about the beginning stages of pregnancy, that I let it. I have almost completely stopped running and without the running my mood has quickly gone sour. I am complaining more. Quitting more. Whining more. Being pessimistic more. And I hate it.

I’ve been letting my role of “mother” take away from all the other roles I love to play: runner, inspirer, friend, wife. And the worst part is, I’ve been letting myself let myself. Yet, when I try to reverse this, when I try to get back to the way things are, I can’t.

It’s not that I don’t know how. I know exactly the steps I need to take. I know exactly what I need to do. But I don’t do it. I make plans. Then I can’t take the steps.

I know I need to get up and run. I just need to do it. And then my alarm goes off in the morning and I go back to sleep, knowing full well that I am going to hate myself in the morning, that I’m going to feel crappier than if I missed that hour of sleep due to running.

Just yesterday, my 3 year old asked me why I don’t go running anymore. Even he has noticed. Even he has seen the effects of my slacked attitude. It’s not just me. It’s not me being oversensitive to the situation.

I feel discouraged because I am so much slower now than I was. I felt like quitting when I realized I wasn’t getting faster, but slower instead. And instead of continually getting slower, I let myself quit altogether.

When I try to explain this to people, I usually get the “It’s ok, because you’re pregnant.” So I sigh and am inwardly happy that I have a “legitimate” excuse that I can use instead of what the real reason is: “I’m scared and I don’t want to fail more than I have so I simply won’t try.” I’m letting pregnancy be my excuse because it’s there, not because it’s the truth. I’m letting it be my excuse because to the outside world, it’s one that is allowed.

But to me it’s not. I’ve come to far to let this go. I’ve overcome heartache and muscle aches and sore everything and yet still kept going. I don’t want to resent my newest little because I quit and blamed it on being pregnant with her.  I don’t want this to be who I am to her and the rest of my family. I don’t want this to be who I am, period.

I need to remember who I was. I need to find me again.

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How nothing and everything has changed…

“Driving home, the sky accelerates
And the clouds all form a geometric shape
And it goes fast
You think of the past
Suddenly everything has changed” ~The Flaming Lips

Since I hadn’t been on Facebook in a few weeks, I missed random things that were happening.  As I perused a little this morning, I saw my brother had posted that last Thursday marked 6 months since my father passed away.  I couldn’t believe it.  Had it really been six months already? Had close to 180 days truly passed?  Have I simply been asleep or in a coma to suddenly wake up and find out this information? How can something feel like yesterday and years ago all at once?

I can honestly say that I have been through more in this 6 months than probably the rest of my life put together.  The dizzying highs and lows, the turmoil that was self-created throughout the summer, it caused a sort of retreat into myself that I have not quite been able to come out of yet.  True, I am not the person I was in August, not quite knowing which way was up and which way was down, confused about the sheer aspect of living life on a daily basis at time.  I am far from that, but I still sometimes feel the need to protect myself from people, and even from feelings, making sure I don’t become that summertime person I was.

While I have let go of the summer; of my dad, of memories, unsure decisions, and enlightening life changes, I haven’t truly let go.  Everything about these few months still hang around me like a dark cloud that could either blow on by or begin pouring down on me at any minute. Every time I think my stride has become right again and my path is straight and narrow a turn, or a rock, or even a small pebble comes out of nowhere to cause me to stumble and fall.  It causes me to relive and remember things that I don’t necessarily want to.

While I may have used the excuse of my dad dying before as the reason I was so off kilter this summer, I need to stop. First and foremost, it’s not fair to him.  He wasn’t a great man, frankly, he wasn’t a good man either, at least not to me, but when someone leaves us we can choose how we see things, and I choose to remember the early years over the later ones.  It’s not fair to continue to blame him for my short comings.  True, his death contributed, but only in the way that it caused initial strife and turmoil within myself.  I had the choice at that moment to begin getting better or continue down a path of self-destruction and we know which one I chose. I had no way to handle my feelings, or really simply to understand them, so I created myself anew, became someone that I wasn’t, simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with the effects of the pain; simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with feeling anything at all.

So many things died this summer, most notably, important parts of myself marred by uneasy choices and decisions along the way.  I have used the fall to rebuild what was lost and broken, and find the parts that were stolen and forgotten about. Some times I feel like I am back together better than ever and at others I feel like I am still a giant pile of rubble ready to be swept into the trash, missing pieces that are so integral to my survival

I’d like to be all zen and believe that all the decisions, even the bad ones, contribute to who you are. I’d like to think that even the bad decisions have gotten me to the place I am today and I should be grateful.  But I’m not all zen. I’m not even a little zen.  I’m not an optimist, I’m a realist.  In the words of Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Life could be a little sweet, But life could be a little shitty.”  And really, in a nutshell, that’s how I feel.

But if we’re still breathing, if we’re still upright, if we can still find something to smile about, then we haven’t lost our hope.

What I know now more than ever is that sometimes life sucks.  But then again, sometimes it doesn’t.

Who’s got W-I-L-L-P-O-W-E-R? Not me…

“Willpower is trying very hard not to do something you want to do very much.” ~ John Ortberg

Things have been going well and not well all at the same time.  Is that even possible?  I’ve been pretty sad lately because a knee injury has sidelined my workout and running efforts.  I probably could have worked out this week, but it was hard to motivate myself knowing I was going to be in pain.  Running was simply out of the question, as it hurt just to walk sometimes.  I got back on the scale and was happy to see I had not gained anything, especially during my crappy eating binge of our snow days.  There were times I should have said no when I whole heartedly said yes and it was reassuring to see that the healthy band wagon didn’t get too far ahead and I am still able to jump back on.

I realize, though, especially during these snow days, that I have a terrible problem with willpower.  The fact seems to be that I don’t have any, or at the very least, I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere around the end of spring.  I’ve tried finding it, but have not had any luck.  I was doing so well last winter.  Eating healthy, working out, letting myself have random treats when I needed them, but for the most part saying no to those things that were going to harm me in the long run (I only ate a small piece of a homemade red velvet birthday cake last year, so that should tell you something).  I had gotten to the point where saying no felt good.  I wasn’t doing it to be pretentious or show that I was better than anyone else or that I could say no when others were saying yes.  I simply knew what that piece of cake/glass (bottle) of wine/cheeseburger was going to cost me in the long run and how I was going to feel if I gave in to the fleeting wanting; to that small dose of happiness I would feel during, but not after.  After, of course, I was going to feel like utter crap.

But lately, the “cravings” are getting the best of me and while I still feel like crap when I give in, I keep going back for more anyway. Part of the reason I deleted my Facebook account was that I was spending too much time on there when I should have been concentrating on other things (work, family, in-real-life friends).  I was wrapped up in this world of needing to know what someone ate for dinner last night, who went out with who, looking at photos, and spending too much time in the past.  And you know what? Every time I did it, spent way too much unconstructive time online, spent too much time on profiles that I have no reason to be on anymore, read conversations that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I felt gross.  Almost as if I had eaten an entire chocolate cake.  I’d get upset because I wasted time, jealous because I wasn’t invited somewhere, hungover on information I did not need.

I spent too weeks off Facebook and really did manage to get more done.  My basement is spotless.  My bed was made everyday. I read three magazines.  I was amazed at my willpower.  I couldn’t believe that I, a self-proclaimed Facebook junkie, had kicked the bad Facebook habit.

But you know what?  I hadn’t.  I had deleted my Facebook account, I had deleted the apps from my phone and iPad.  I had deleted the book mark from my computer.  There really wasn’t an easy way for me to get back on without having to re-log in or re-download something.  Essentially it wasn’t willpower.  Willpower would have been having access to it, but making the conscious decision not to get back on. I made it close to impossible for me to get back on.  Willpower would have been keeping my account, but forcing myself to limit my interactions and time online.  I made it so there was no choice to make.  I took the easy way out, the cowardly way out.

And really, the whole Facebook issue is reminiscent of most of the issues I have with my life.  I lack the willpower to say no or make a better decision.  Even when I know that what I am doing is the wrong choice I simply do it anyway because I can’t say no.  And really, I can, but it’s hard and sometimes I don’t know what I want.

But instead of taking the easy way out, I need to “man” up.  I need to learn to do what is best for me in the long run, not what is going to be a fleeting source of happiness.  I have to stop being so blind sided by what is right in front me and begin looking at the big picture.  I have to realize that pretty much everything is OK in moderation…but I need to make sure I am moderating (food, time online, time with family, etc.)

I’ve seen what I can accomplish when the challenge was easy.  Now let’s see what I can do when we up the ante.

Now is the time…

“Now is the time for guts and guile.” ~Elizabeth Taylor

I feel like I should preface this post with saying I haven’t given up.  I realize that I need to say that to myself more than I need to say it to anyone else, but really, I promise, I haven’t given up.  I completed my third 5k on Sunday.  Did I run the whole thing?  Nope.  Did I run a majority of it? Nope.  Did I run some of it?  Yep. And on that day, that was good enough for me.

Have I been running since Sunday?  Nope.  Have I been active at all since Sunday?  Nope.  Have I been eating the best I could over the past couple weeks?  Nope.  I could be doing better.  I should be doing better.  I know how to be doing better.  And yet I’m not.  I’m fucking not.  And I have no excuses whatsoever.  I’m just not.

I could blame this on the excruciating pain that my plantar fasciitis has been causing me.  But really, that’s bull.  Yes, my foot is killing me and at time it just hurts to stand, but what am I doing to make it better?  Am I doing the stretches I should be doing?  No.  Am I doing anything to help or prevent the pain at all besides taking some tylenol?  No.

I could blame the fact that it’s because I’m trying to spend more time with my family, but that’s bull too.  I am trying to spend more time with them, but I need to realize it’s quality over quantity and if I’m not all there and my mind is someplace else anyway, what’s the point.

I could blame it on the fact that I’ve been a little depressed lately.  New birth control plus a return of insomnia does not a happy person make.

And you’d think identifying the problem would be enough to get my butt into action.  But nope.  Not me.  Instead I complain.  And yell.  And act sullen.  You know, the mature 33 year old thing to do.  I’ve done such a good job my whole life putting all the blame on other people that I’ve seemingly let myself off the hook.

But not anymore.  It is time to take charge.  I ordered some anti-steroid cream and a night brace.  I will do my stretches twice a day and ice my foot twice a day.  I will make time, quality time, to spend with my family, while also leaving time for me.  I will stop making excuses. Bad decisions are exactly that…decisions.  I have no one to blame for all of the ones I have made, except myself.  I can continue to dwell on them or I reflect, learn, move on and hope I don’t make the same ones again.

I will stop complaining.  I will get back on track.  I will get through this.  I have come too far to give up now.

100 Mile Challenge Miles: 33.8
Pounds lost since starting 100 Miles Challenge: 8.2 pounds

Playing it safe…

“Waiting is painful.  Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.” ~Paulo Coelho

It’s funny.  I feel like I should write, but I’m not quite sure what to write about.  Sometimes I don’t even know that I’m thinking certain thoughts until they spill out onto the page as I type.  I finished my third 5K today and, to me, that is a pretty big accomplishment.  But still, I don’t know if that is what I want to write about.  I’m at a point where I don’t know if the problem is that I have nothing in my head or everything.

What I do know is that I’m tired of waiting.  But even then, I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.  A sign?  Something that tells me what direction I take at the fork in the road.  I’m always looking for something to tell me which direction to choose or which path to take: a certain time on a clock, finding a heads up penny, even my horoscope at times (ironically enough, my horoscope today tells me that if I have a particular issue on my mind, I shouldn’t wait for a better moment to get it out into the open). I feel like I am always at a “fork in the road”.  Each decision has it’s own set of benefits and consequences and really, you can’t know what they are until you make the decision.  So I spend time debating and agonizing and worrying so much that I create more problems and situations than there actually are.

I think one of my problems is that I don’t take enough risks and tend to not put myself “out there” as much as I could or should.  I tend to play it safe, thinking that if I don’t make a choice or a move either a. someone will make it for me, or b. nothing happens and I am no worse off than I was before.  Plus, what happens if I do put myself out there and it turns out to be the wrong decision or a mistake?  Or even worse, I am somehow rejected?  Sometimes I feel like my fragile ego just won’t be able to handle it.

I tend to write all these posts about how I need to jump in, make grand gestures, simply make choices and decisions, and yet that’s all they are…words on a page.  I don’t actually DO any of that.  I write about doing it, but never take action.  It all sounds so amazing and profound when I write it down and for a while I actually contemplate taking action, real action, within my life.  And then I get scared. And the worst part?  The really worst part?  Is that I am a giant hypocrite.  I tend to judge people for not following through when they complain about the direction of their life and yet I do the same thing.

At what point will I allow myself to make the first phone call, take the first step, or tell someone what I really want instead of going along with someone else’s plans?  At what point will I allow myself to walk away from situations instead of clinging to a hope that maybe, one day, it will get better?  At what point will I just DO SOMETHING instead of standing still?

At what point will I allow myself to jump, knowing that it’s just as likely that I land on my feet unscathed as it is I break my legs?

So Jump

“If she’s amazing she won’t be easy.  If she’s easy she won’t be amazing.  If she’s worth it you won’t give up.  If you give up you’re not worthy.  Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you’ve just got to find the ones worth suffering for.” ~Bob Marley

To say that this week has been crazy would be an understatement.   I haven’t been running since Tuesday.  My foot is killing me and I am trying to rest it as much as possible and try it out again Monday morning and see how it feels.  But, you know what?  I think this is one of the best things to happen to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually like being injured or the shooting pains in my foot.  But I knew that running was giving me some sort of endorphin-filled high.  Which made me want to run…a lot.  I probably have even been running too much, hence the pain in my foot.  I was worried that if I stopped running that my happiness would begin to disappear and that running was the only thing making me happy.

But it wasn’t.  I’m still happy even though I haven’t run or even worked out in the last three days.  My good mood seems here to stay, at least for a little while.  I’m starting to learn things little by little and that seems to be helping me change my outlook and perspective and keep me happier.

I’m learning that it’s OK to take a break if I need it.  I’m at the place where I know that a small break does not mean I have quit or give up.

I’m learning that it’s OK to stress about things…as long as you don’t let the stress over take you.  I’m letting myself feel the full weight of a situation for five minutes, handling it, and then moving on.  Worrying doesn’t help anything or change the situation, so why bother.

I’m learning that I know what’s best for me.  I love that I have a support system of friends and family who are there for me and want to help.  And I listen to their advice because they love me and want me to be the best person I can. But in the end, my decisions are my decisions and while they may not understand why I’m making one, they don’t have to.

I’m learning that friends may be people who tell you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it, but they also will never intentionally try to pull you down. They won’t base their happiness and worth on your down fall.  Don’t ever let anyone dull your sparkle and all that…

I’m learning that not all bad decisions are “bad decisions”.  Decisions are choices, plain and simple, and what defines them as bad is how you see the outcome.  As long as you can live with the consequence of the decision you are making, and as long as it doesn’t intentionally hurt anyone, is it really a bad decision?

I’m learning it’s OK to be a little weird.  And to accept my weirdness and revel in it.  That one thing you think is weird, might be the one thing someone else falls in love with.

I’m learning that it’s OK to feel any emotion I am feeling.  Hurt, happiness, betrayal, love, sadness, longing, anger, giddy…there is a reason for each and every one of them.

I’m also learning that while it’s OK to feel any emotion you want, you need to be careful who you are sharing them with.  Don’t share them with people who will be reckless with them or judge.  While it’s OK to feel every emotion, not everything needs to be shared.

I’m learning that it’s OK to keep things to myself.  To keep me to myself.  Self-preservation is sometimes all we have.

And finally, I’m learning that sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith.

So jump.

What About Me?

“Be miserable.  Or motivate yourself.  Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.” ~Wayne Dyer

I started this summer as I start every summer…with great plans.  I was going to accomplish so much.  The house was going to be cleaned and organized. I was going to go to the gym every day.  I was going to work with Max on his writing and Ollie on his…demoness stubborn personality.  I was going to read great books and write great things.  I was going to plan for the next school year.  All my centers would be made in advance.

I was going to do great things this summer.

Here’s what I have actually accomplished: I read two books, organized the toys in Max’s closet, and gone to the gym a smattering of times.

All I can really say is “what the hell happened?!?!?!?!?”

I have been extremely lazy, and probably downright selfish, this summer and I really don’t like it.  I was supposed to make positive contributions to myself and my family and I have done nothing.

Fortunately, the best advice anyone ever gave me was that every every day, every hour, every minute is new…a time in which you can be reborn.

So tonight I signed up for the next Color Run in Baltimore (to be held in November).  And tomorrow I will make my way back to the gym.

And each day I will accomplish something else because I can.  I’m fortunate to know that I have the time to do this while others don’t.  I am one of the lucky ones.

It’s time to get back on track.  I can do this.

I have to do this.

Can we really have it all?

“You only live once.  But if you do it right, once is enough.” ~Mae West

I started another post a few days ago on the idea of unconventionality in life.  It’s so scattered and messy right now, that it’s not ready to be posted, but I hope that I can post it soon.  With my dad passing and the school year ending within the last week, I have been very contemplative about life in general and while writing that post my thoughts began to spiral.  My insomnia is back, so I have been awake, hours each night, just laying in bed with my mind wandering all over the place and I can’t seem to make sense of any of it.

So much has been happening in the past few days, weeks, even months, that I am having trouble processing what it all means within the realm of my life.  I feel completely turned around, with no idea if I am coming or going, or simply sitting still.  And with no real production or work that has to take place during the day, since I am off for the summer, I am feeling quite lost.

If you know me in real life, you already know that I am not good at compromise.   It’s either this way or that way but it can’t be both.  In the simplest definition, I tend to be an extremist.  I usually go from far left to far right with no stops in the middle. I tend to be going either 100 miles per hour, or at a complete snails pace.

I’ve often battled with the conflicting ideologies of “you only live once” and “you can’t always get what you want” going back and forth between them.  Depending on my day, or mood, I always seem to be either completely for one or the other.  Are there times when one is more appropriate than the other?  Do I choose one based on convenience?  Is it “YOLO” when I want to be selfish and “You can’t always get what you want” when I feel like being a responsible adult?  I wish I could just pick one and decide to live my life that way.  Consistency is key and at this point I am so far removed from it that I literally can’t even think in a straight line.

At what point does “you only live once” simply become a cop-out for taking the easy way out?  Can we really have our cake and eat it too?  When is it ok to be selfish and when is it not?  What if our actions, while making us happier and more fulfilled, hurt the ones we love?  At what point should we just accept the wonderful things we have: a roof over our heads, family, friends, a good job, health insurance, and stop bitching about happiness, being fulfilled, finding a purpose?

Can we really have it all and, really, should we even be trying to?

Judgment Day

“There are many things that people do happily that I can’t imagine why they would do it.  But I have to say that even though I am critical or judgmental of society at large, I’m not critical of people individually.  We are who we are.” ~Ian MacKaye

After my dad died, I felt the need to go a little crazy.  That’s not true, I had been feeling this way for a few weeks now, but this was the excuse I needed to let it happen.  I needed to feel alive, to feel like I was doing something exciting and different even if the decisions I made were ultimately stupid.  No matter what I did, I was ready to face any consequences my actions may have.

Luckily, I have the best friends who were willing to help me out on this little endevour.  Our end of year staff party was coming up and this was the perfect avenue for us to let our hair down and end the school year with a bang.

We decided to have a “judgment free” night.  No matter what happened, none of us would be allowed to judge the others, or talk about one with another, etc.  We hugged on it, took a jell-o shot on it, and pinky promised that we would not think badly of each other, or at the very least, if we did, we would keep those judgey thoughts to ourselves.

Long story short, a lot of fun was had and a lot of craziness ensued.  It was exactly what I needed and while no boats were stolen, I don’t regret a thing about that night.  It wasn’t until I was driving around the next day that I realized there was something wrong with the night.  Then it hit me.

Why the hell did we have to plan a “judgement free night”?  Why did we have to pinky swear and promise that we weren’t going to judge either?  As friends, pretty close friends, shouldn’t we already be doing that?  Shouldn’t we simply be supporting our friends in the decisions that they make instead of spending that time judging their lives and their actions?

What drives us (as women, as a society) to judge others so often?  Is it jealousy?  The desire to always be right or have things our way?  That when we identify what we feel to be a “mistake” or “lapse of judgement” in someone else, our life begins to look better or more put together?

I wish I could say that I wasn’t judgmental, but I am guilty of this as well.  And need to stop.  Like, really need to stop.  But how do you do that?  Not talking about people is one thing,but how do you tell your brain to stop having those thoughts to begin with?

And because I judge, I know other’s judge.  And because of this, I don’t know if I am ever truly honest with anyone.  I tend to keep a lot to myself, “secrets” about myself that, while I don’t care if others know, I simply don’t want to be judged by this information nor do I want the information passed on from person to person without my consent.

It’s a sickening feeling, being scared to be yourself or say what you really think simply in order to avoid judgement.

I wonder how much time I would free up in my life if I was not only able to stop judging, but also stop having anxiety over being judged.

Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to find out.