Sometimes, I hold my breath…
Sometimes, I hold my breath… I was originally going to start this post out with “Sometimes, I forget to breathe…” but that is completely inaccurate, I always remember but sometimes I choose to hold my breath. I haven’t quite figured out why for all of the times, but 7 times out of 10 it is because I want whatever is happening to stop or go away or rewind. Mind you, it never works, but for some reason I keep doing it.
When I had knee surgery at the end of January, I held my breath until they were able to get my IV in; I held my breath as they took it out; I held my breath as I got up to take my first steps (post-surgery). And this is just ONE day!
This morning, when I was driving to work, I saw a WAGS (Washington Area Girls Soccer) magnet and I thought back to all of the years I dedicated to soccer, how I played on and off during college and didn’t do stuff because of stupid people I chose to keep in my life and where those decisions got me (trust me, it was nowhere good) and I held my breath, hoping that I could change stuff… and then it kind of hit me. I do this regularly and yknow what, I have changed, dramatically since 2003. Things had to get a little worse before they could get a little better, and since I do nothing half-assed, they got a lot worse and then a lot better. 🙂
Speaking of how I never do anything half-assed, when I decide to do something, I do it and I hit it hard. When I decided to start running, I signed up for a 5 mile race as my first race. Within my first 6 months of starting running, I had signed up for and completed a half marathon. Within the first 18 months I had completed my first full marathon.
So, when I had to stop running in November because of my knee, I decided I would delve into my feelings about my dad dying, in a variety of ways: doing all of the crappiest things I could do to myself and spending tons of money on useless crap (just another way to avoid dealing). As December rolled in, the holidays came and went and my unhealthy activities took a brief break while I did a program at my church, but I picked up where I left off in January when we moved into our new house. I continued with this unhealthy pattern until about two weeks post knee surgery, when I decided to STOP wallowing in self-pity and pain. It has taken me about one month to completely pull my head from my ass. It cost me some money, 30-35 pounds gained, and 3 months of my own time. (And just a disclaimer, this didn’t affect my work or anything like that, just ate like crap, spent a little too much, went out a little too much, and I was pretty much a sad sack for 3-4 months for sure)
The thing I am most upset isn’t about the money (we didnt go into debt or anything just didnt stick to the budget like I should have) or the weight gain (although it is uncomfortable and it is shitty, it can be lost… again), it is the loss of time. I essentially lost those 3 months. I hate losing time. Hate it. I went through a period of my life where I was just wasting time (years, actually) and it always pisses me off when I lose time…. prolly why I pack all of my days with tons of stuff and why when I was in grad school, I worked full time, had a second job AND was marathon training hehe. Now, in all fairness, it wasn’t a complete loss of time. This period of time actually enabled me to open up and discuss my feelings and how much the loss of my dad affected me. And I didn’t open up to everyone, just a handful of people, really. And some commiserated and some gave sympathy and some wept with me.
Anyway, I made a decision to, yknow, pull my head from my ass. And it is kind of funny because, looking back and as I have been typing this, I realize that as much as I hated losing that time to just… do nothing… it really helped me open a dialog about how I was feeling that I wasn’t willing to do prior to November – so I suppose some good came out of the time warp 🙂
Back to this morning, I found my self holding my breath on my drive in when I saw the WAGS magnet and thinking about my dad and my teammates and all of the years I spent playing D1 ball and eminem’s not afraid was playing. Idunno, it was pretty kickass. 🙂
Point being, sometimes bad things can actually be good, with the right perspective and outlook.