*I wrote this piece last June (2024). I'm not sure why I didn't publish it then, and I'm in a bit of a different place today. I'm sure that the feeling of being fed up could creep in again, but I think I must have assimilated much of what I write about, because my running circumstances haven't improved a whole lot in the nine months since I wrote this piece, but my approach has. Even so, I think it's good to express these sentiments. I know when I've read pieces of writing from a perspective of things not going swimmingly for someone, I feel less alone. So I found this, and read it, and am publishing it as is from last year.
Today has been rough: I'm not just cranky. I'm not just grumpy. I'm angry. I'm fed up.
I don't experience this feeling often, but if I do find myself there I need an action step so I can move right out--I will never slow down and sit in it. If being fed up is like getting a cup of coffee then I always go through the drive through versus going into the coffee shop and sitting down for a spell. So today I decided not to just move through feeling fed up but to sit down with it instead, i.e. I did not to get my coffee to go. I got my mug, planted myself at a big table, and, instead of pushing it away, I invited the fed-up rabble in my mind to take a seat and unload. Give it to me straight. Have at it. You are noisy and unruly and what the heck are your problems?
It's probably no big surprise that they did not follow Robert's Rules of Order. I had a head full of loud voices that resembled the floor of the stock exchange. Many of them are just yelling old stories at me about what I haven't done right or well over the years. They yell about what I've messed up and how I've fallen short. They show up and harass me a lot, they don't have their facts straight, and their delivery is never constructive. They sound like anger, but they aren't anger; in fact, they bully anger into silence. My therapist calls these voices add ons. So I let them blur into a cacophony; I don't mind them being indiscernible from one another.
What I found out is that if I sit there long enough I can pick anger out of the crowd. My anger is quiet and tight and doesn't expect to be heard. Furthermore, she has a strong alliance with fear, and they will often be mistaken for the other. While the add ons took up all the space, I made eye contact with anger and fear, and motioned over to the corner of the room. We sat down and stared at each other, and I took a deep breath and said, "What do you want to tell me?" And they proceeded to let me have it. Not all of it was rational, not all of it was valid, not all of it was mature, and a lot of it wasn't meant for anyone's ears but mine. Nevertheless, I let them unload, and where running is directly concerned, they had a lot to say. And since--who am I kidding?--they are me (and this next part is hard), here is what I'm angry and/or scared about--not always rational or mature, definitely not from a state of grace--just fed up with:
- I've been in pain for a long time
- I'm still in a good deal of pain
- I thought I'd be much further down the road by now in my recovery from surgeries
- I actually never banked on surgeries, just surgery
- I've lost all my fitness
- I've gained a bunch of weight, which just doesn't make me feel great
- During all of this my body has finally decided to fully fling itself into menopause after fifteen years of slogging its' way there
- My belief in my ability to have a comeback is hanging on by a thread, while my desire to run and my dreams grow bigger, which sometimes just feels cruel
- I don't know if my dreams are fuel or foolish
- I don't have happy running lessons to write about currently
- My perspective on injury doesn't matter
- I'll lose my community if I can't run again
- I don't have the grit I had two years ago
- My body, mind & spirit will never align again
- I woke up so late in life and wasted so much time
- The pain will never go away
I can hear how important it is to let anger and fear have their say and to not just gloss over them with action steps and platitudes, but I am also really grateful that, after a lot of practice, I lean into gratitude and action. What good would it do to set up camp in any one of these statements?
I find, for me, that anger and fear deal heavily in the arenas of what use to be, what I should have done, and what if. And none of that is helpful. But to say anger and fear don't exist to some degree isn't true either. They do exist and they are a part of the team. When given a proper place and not too much power they can serve the team in a constructive way--they can point things out and offer direction. Proper place and not too much power being key. They can be taught to follow Robert's Rules of Order, and I respect their perspective.
Truth be told, having said all that, I still don't like either one of them very much. I wish I could demote them, or, better yet, remove them altogether. But maybe the key is to let them serve their right and true purpose in the realm of my human emotions. Maybe the key is to not worry about them so much, and to continue to wrangle and train the add ons to follow the rules of order that I value, instead of trying to navigate the chaos they like to create.