Running Away: Part Two

My alarm went off at 5:45am, and my first words went something like, "Uuuhhhhnnnnn.... Nooo..." And I went back to sleep for 5 more blissfull minutes. Then I dragged out of bed, got ready and walked outside to see a sky still full of stars. I said, "Oooh!" and then immediately registered that I felt queasy and my side hurt, like my body was already anticipating the imminent pain that was to come. I told my body to suck it up and went running anyway. As with most of my runs so far, it started out painful, but got better with each stride. It helped that I was running with a good friend who can amazingly keep up funny banter while she runs, whereas I'm still at the stage where I wheeze-breathe my way through the whole thing. But by the end of the run, I felt like I could have kept going which is a good sign. My left knee was unhappy with me, but the rest of me felt strong and energized. Not bad.

So now, my running enthusiast readers, can you give me any pointers for protecting/strengthening a weak knee during training? I hurt it 6 years ago (dislocated the knee cap), so it occassionally likes to complain when I run too long. I've gotten some tips already, like using a wrap, icing it if it swells, etc, but I'm open to more advice. My bum knee can't be the reason I don't do this race!

"My body tells me no, but I won't quit 'cause I want more." - Young the Giant

Nestle, don't wrestle.

So, I think a lot. Now these thoughts aren't necessarily brilliant or even coherent, but they're there nonetheless, spinning about and making a ruckus at times. For someone with such a liberal arts, anti-math/logic type brain, I tend to analyze and re-analyze things. It's hard to turn off.

Most of the time, this thinking is good for the type of work I do. Other times it is tiresome and I wish I could venture into that foreign place that my guy friends call "the nothing box". You know, the place you go where your thoughts stop and you just zone out for awhile? Yeah, I've never experienced it either, but it sure sounds nice.

Awhile ago, I was talking with a good friend about my thought processes, and she said, "Well, you certainly know how to wrestle. Maybe it's time you nestle." I blinked a few times, "Do what now?" My genius friend went on to explain that I wrestle with problems, curiosities, and the like, going over them again and again hoping to make sense of them. Sometimes it works, but sometimes it just gives me a headache. "That's when you nestle," she said. "Quit wrestling with yourself."

Huh. She had a great point, a point that reminded me of some other advice given to me by a fellow counselor. He told me, "Brittany, you can't be in the problem and the solution at the same time. Stop thinking so much."

Now the first part of that advice was useful, whereas the second half seemed as absurd as telling me, "stop listening to music" or "hey, you know that breathing thing you do? Cut it out". That absurdity aside, the advice was quite good. I needed to let go of the swirling thoughts, step away from the stress and nestle...

...Which is how I found myself spending this weekend alternating laying in the sun and playing in the rain. When life amped up again this afternoon, I got swept up in the wrestling, and had to remind myself, "Hey! Go nestle." So after finishing my latest wrestling match, I threw on my running shoes and ran in the peaceful quiet of my dark neighborhood. I ran past deer, saw the 5 stars that are visible in the city sky, and let my thoughts slow down. And guess what happened after that? I actually found some clarity. Yay!

Balancing wrestling and nestling is an art that I'm still working on, but it is oh-so necessary. I'm very thankful for all the ways God gives us to nestle - prayer, fellowship, meditation, nature, reading - and hope to strike that balance between work and rest.

"Nestle, don't wrestle." Hmm... maybe I should get that stitched on a pillow. Or tattooed somewhere. Or put on a t-shirt? Bumper sticker? Oh, dangit. I'm doing it again. I think I'm going to go nestle in that great unconscious gift known as sleep. Buenas noches.

No one can get inner peace by pouncing on it. ~Harry Emerson

Running Away: Part One

Today marks Day 1 of my half-marathon training. Yes, you read that correctly. Half-marathon training. Me, the girl who hasn't run more than a couple miles since track in 8th grade, is doing a half-marathon. I mean, I've worked out since 8th grade. I once boxed so long I almost fainted. And once I even hiked 11 miles (5.5 of which I wouldn't have hiked had I had another way of getting back to my car, but whatevs). But running 13.1 miles? Yeah freaking right.

Top Three Reasons Why I Shouldn't Do This:

1. My knees are weak. I once dislocated my knee cap three times. That was fun.

2. I'll have to train in the winter, a time when I walk around the house wrapped in an electric blanket and 3 layers of clothing. If they made footie pajamas for adults, I'd have several sets. But for this marathon, I'll be running outside sans electric blanket. Brrr....

3. It's going to hurt. And I might get sick running for 2 hours. And I might come in dead last and no one will be there to cheer me on and I'll look like a loser and then I'll have to get carted away in an ambulance because my heart implodes. Okay, that's really like 1 real reason and 5 irrational fears. Yikes.


Top Three Reasons Why I Should Do This:

1. Running encourages good brain chemistry. I need my serotonin.

2. Running clears my head and strengthens my heart. Since I need both of those organs in top shape, this is a good thing indeed.

3. Accomplishing this goal after the stuff I've gone through this year with one of my good friends will feel AWESOME. Like "hey, look I've climbed to the top of a mountain" awesome or even "I've defeated my worst fears and came out smiling" awesome.

So, I'm going to do it. I started my training today and ran for 15 minutes without stopping. I just have to do that 10 times over and I'll be set. It didn't suck as bad as I thought it would, and I actually feel pretty good right now.

We'll see where I am in a few months when my coach amps up the workouts... Bring it on!

Love is free.

Sometimes we walk away from love, be it romantic, platonic, or familial. We walk from it because the pain is too great, or because we feel enslaved by the other. Somehow by giving our heart to another person, we give them the power to hurt us, and this is dangerous because they so often do. So, we run.

This is no small reality; it can break connections that never should be broken, or it can break connections that should never have occurred in the first place. My question is, how do we love freely despite this?

I believe that true love is free. It is a gift freely given, with no expectation. No expectations! This seems to me a difficult, if not impossible, task. We spend our whole lives collecting expectations, consciously or not, and when they are not met, we get angry, hurt, disappointed, et cetera. I'm still trying to figure out how to love without expectation, and so far what I've discovered is that 1. it's hard, 2. it takes daily recommitment, and 3. it involves the oh-so-fun process of letting go. (Ah, letting go. Yet another task that we're supposed to know how to do without any specific instructions.)

Anyway, I also think that free love is given with the idea that the one being loved should have the freedom to be themselves, to make their own choices and mistakes, and to pursue their own heart's desire... Even if their heart's desire is not you or what you want for them.

Ouch, right? This is the fuel that makes people run from relationships because it just freaking hurts. If those we love don't meet our expectations, causing pain or disappointment, we may walk away to protect our hearts. I'm not saying this is always a bad thing to do. Sometimes the best way to love someone is to walk away from them. Sometimes we do have to force separation to save ourselves. I've done this myself.

But sometimes I wonder, what if we're not supposed to run every time? What if we let go of our expectations long enough to see that true love thrives without them? Who would still be in our lives?

If love is truly free, we must love without the expectation to be loved the same way in return. The point of love is not to receive, although that is the hope. The point of love is to love, even if we have to love from afar. Distance doesn't dilute its existence or purpose. Love has only the boundaries we place on it.

... Of course I could be totally wrong about this whole notion. I've got a lot of loving and learning to do.

"The success of love is in the loving - it is not in the result of loving.
Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done." - Mother Teresa

"And the person who loves wholeheartedly feels free." - Paulo Coehlo

You save me.

About three months ago, everything I thought I knew fell away. All of the things I counted on disappeared, seemingly at once, and I was left depleted and broken. I fell to the bottom of the bottom. I fell further than I thought possible, so far in fact, that I thought I would never get back up.

Sounds melodramatic, I'm sure, but it is how I felt at the time. As proof, here's an excerpt from that first week of falling:

"My heart is shattered. Once again I find myself alone and in utter disbelief. I can’t sleep for the life of me since it happened. My thoughts swirl and clutter my mind: pain, shock, anger, sadness, confusion, guilt... The pain ebbs and flows and I can’t bare it. It chokes me. Another wave comes, I see it cresting, and it washes over me, pulling me under the current, helpless and hopeless, not even fighting it. I give in to the weight of the pain, I let it drag me along, knowing I’m powerless to stop it. It swallows me. I want nothing more than to be free from this. To have my old life come back, to have someone pull me from this dark water and back onto dry, steady ground. How could this be happening?"

Again, I know it sounds melodramatic and this post is not meant to solicit pity or consolation. I write this post as a testimony to the miracle that the love of God and community can be. I write this in praise and thanksgiving for the incredible support I received by those around me. I prayed for God to save me, to send me help, and He sent it abundantly.

Sometimes when we're in the thick of trauma, it's hard to see grace. But looking back over these past 3 months, I see that God loved and healed me through every kind glance, friendly hug, funny text, late night phone call, and late night hang out that my community gave me. Even those who didn't know what was happening in my life, but were still a part of my life, be it on Facebook or church or my new (blessedly trauma-free) job, supported me without even trying to. And even people I thought were lost to me forever came back in amazing, powerful ways to support me.

Community is powerful and immensely healing. In three months I have been to hell and back again, steadily healing from the chaos that was my life in April. I still have some healing to do, but I can finally see hope again. It would not have been possible without the communities I take part in: my family, my friends, my church, my work, and even my internet community (I even got support from Australian pen pals! Now that's cool).

Moral of this blog? Trauma can lead to desperation. Desperation can bring you to your knees. From your knees, the depths of your pleas are heard, and if you look closely, are answered through God's love, in the form of community.

Thanks to all of you who saved me, and who keep saving me, a day at a time.

I am truly blessed.

P.S. This song seems appropriate. Music is good that way. Gotye "Save Me":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdIvFxu9jJQ

Desperation.

First of all, I'd like to start by saying I'm writing this blog while kneeling. My desk is gone, and my computer perches precariously on a filing cabinet while I type at its metallic edge. It's cold and uncomfortable, which is exactly how I feel right now.

Not to get into too much detail, but I just recently (as in this last week), had some interactions with a person who was desperate. At first, I couldn't pin point what they were desperate for - love, attention, security? All of the above? The desperation seeped into every action and word during my conversations with them, and I tried to comfort them the only way I knew how: listening. It didn't help. When our conversation finally ended, and they walked away, I was left as I said before, cold and uncomfortable. As I write, I realize it's because that desperation is so familiar. It has enveloped me, too, many times. In fact, the last three months have been some of the most desperate months of my life (to be discussed in my next post).

Desperation is not foreign to me, and I would venture to say that it is not foreign to anyone. We've all had those moments in life where we felt that hopeless yearning for something we felt was lacking. We feel its void in our life until it becomes an obsession and colors our every behavior and thought. We wander around looking for that something in what we think are obvious places: other people, money, a better job, bigger house, attention, fame, recognition. We look to these things to fill us, to satisfy this yearning that calls to us so urgently.

But now I wonder, what should we be desperate for other than God's love?

I think that we will not ever be completely satisfied here on Earth; we may come very close, but there will always be that void, that feeling of incompleteness, that follows us on this journey. True peace, true fulfillment will only come when we're united with Him who made us.

And with that, this blogger is going to sleep. My knees hurt now and are desperate for bed.

Self-Imprisonment

[Originally written 10/9/07... back in my more emo days]

What am I afraid of? For so long I’ve been walking around in my head, peering out now and then to make sure I’m still alive. It’s like I purposely put up this foggy wall between me and the world and all the people in it. I guess I’m trying to protect myself – it’s an emotional survival instinct. I’ve been working veiled, pasting a smile to my face, saying all the right things, and basically being a prisoner in my own head. My wall has turned into steel bars; I can’t climb over them, I can’t break through, but I can see through them just enough to be aware of what I’m missing.

Every once in awhile I’ll stick my hand through the bars with my tiny little cracked mirror and take a hesitant look around. I enjoy the things I see, even the other prisoners like me. I see their eyes and their mirrors and in both I see myself. Sometimes the sun will shine through the dusty window and for a single moment I feel myself breathing, I feel myself living. The sun warms the blood in my veins and coaxes the stale, aching breath from my lungs. Then it goes away, or as is more often the case, I turn my back on it. What if I were to stare at it any longer? Would its rays burn me? Would my eyes adjust to the light and not be able to appreciate it anymore? What if its warmth were enough to pull me through the tiny window? What then? I would fall to the dusty earth, scramble to my feet, back pressed against the wall, as my bloodshot eyes darted frantically from the people and things in my midst. My bars aren’t there to protect me anymore. I can’t hide within the safety of my misery and desperation. I have to step away from the wall and remember how to use my senses again. Baby steps. Am I afraid of failing? Am I afraid of succeeding? In my prison, my failure is expected, comforting even. I hold onto it, purposely finding ways to keep me in my cell – I am good at self-destructive behavior. It’s like I want to stay here – it’s easy. Success, or even the attempt of it, comes with so many more responsibilities and expectations... more opportunities to fail and with greater consequences. What if I’m not strong enough?

I am weak. I am weak. A priest told me this yesterday, and it hit me with surprising intensity. I am weak. Yes, I went to confession. I felt compelled to go and I’m glad I did. The priest was nice and grandfatherly and opened my cell for me, just a little... just enough to get me started on the process of integrating back into the land of humanity and feelings. He told me that God is forever patient, and He’s always waiting for us to come back to us. He said that we all have dark periods in our lives, but we can always step back into the light.

I need to breathe. I need to write. I need to pray. I need to do all these things. And maybe then, I can slowly ease my way out of my self-imprisonment and into the light.

"He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness."
I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses,
in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults,
hardships, persecutions, and constraints,
for the sake of Christ;
for when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Cor. 12:7-10