Faith Week

Today is the start of Faith Week for me.  The week leading up to the 6th birth date of our little Faith MaryJo.

It's been a thought in the back of my mind for a while... it's always a thought in the back of my mind in some form or another, but I have found today as I was attempting to sit in some silence and soul care for myself, that my mind is wanting to be anything but silent.

I wanted to allow myself a full "rest day" after my #runsheisbeautiful "run" yesterday (which I got through but didn't actually "run" it because of my back and inability to train like I had wanted [needed]).  For whatever reason my mind is always at war trying to justify what a "real runner" "is" and "isn't", and for all the miles and all the races I've put my body through, I still really don't consider myself a "real" runner.  But this is another topic for another day, and a topic that I've already covered (and covered and covered) in past posts.

But this morning as I sat reading in the dark morning silence, my mind was not wanting to comply to the silence around me.  It was thinking of the to-list on the counter.  It was thinking about the litany of things I have yet to accomplish and achieve that I want to, and it was continuing to bring up thoughts and memories of Faith.

Next Saturday will mark the 6th anniversary of her birth.  She was born sleeping, already in Heaven, already in the Arms of Jesus.  There's so much to say and yet nothing at all to say.  And I'm sitting here torn and unable to focus my thoughts and feelings into any one channel of clarity.

I've been doing "this" for six years now, and I still don't know how to do it "right"... I still don't know how to celebrate and grieve all at the same time.  How do you remember and how do you forget all at the same time?  And I know there is no right or wrong way to do it, and every single person does it differently... their own way, as only they need to, but I seem to always get stuck in the sticky middle of all of it.

Do I write something new, although how to you share something "new" when there isn't anything "new" actually to share, because the passing of the past year will still bring us right back to the same place as last year... the cemetery.

She's not here to open gifts, or eat her cake.  She's not here to pick her party theme or tell us what's on her wish list.  She's not here to take photos of or videos of to share and savor.  The only picture and videos of her are her ultrasounds photos, the memory burned into my mind of watching the large screen in the dark room and seeing those arms move, that heartbeat flutter in time on the screen with the audio coming from the machine next to me, and the pictures of her headstone across town at the cemetery.

I want to post, to share, to honor, and to remember her, but I don't want people to feel sorry for me, or pity me, or be concerned about my current mental health (or lack there of).  I want to plan a little something special to celebrate her, but wonder if that's just odd, weird, not normal, unhealthy... I don't want to re-post the same sad posts of that one time, that one thing that happened to us six years ago and make it sound like I am still unable to move on, to recover from, to get over... 

And yet... I'm NOT totally moved on, I'm NOT fully recovered from it, and I'm NOT completely over it, and know I never actually will be... So why worry, why fear what other people might think, or might say, or might not even care about.

We all journey through grief and loss differently, on different time frames and through different degrees of publicity and silent secrecy.  There's no guidebook on this, there's no grade to enter into the grade book at the end of the project to score how well we did (or didn't do).

And grades make me think of school... think about how she would have been in preschool or TK this year.  Who are the other kids that would be in class with her? Who are the other parents we would be mingling with?  What graduating year would she have been?  Who would she have been friends with? What toys and shows would she have enjoyed?  What would some of her favorite foods and candy have been?

These are all things we will never know, never have, never get to experience.  So, should I allow myself to think about these kinds of things, or should I just be working on forgetting... forgiving God and moving forward...

Should I again publicly share my story of her life and loss?  Should I bake her a little cake and celebrate the life we both got and lost all at the same time on March 27, 2015?  Should I bring balloons and flowers to the cemetery next Saturday? And... is this even an "I" thing for me alone to decide, as it really is a "we" thing... a "family" thing... and yet I am fully aware we are all on different pages of our journey within the same story, and that makes all of it even that much more tricky.

So this morning I sit here, my mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions and I have no idea what is right or wrong, what is forward or backward, what is remembering or forgetting, and I simply have to do what I've done so many times before...

I have to merely open my hands and acknowledge that I am not the one in control, I did not choose this, I do not know the answers to any of this, and somehow that is ok (even though it's totally not). 

It's ok to have to step into yet another Faith Week messy and mixed up and emotional.  It's ok to not be ok, and it's ok to actually be ok.  There's so much guilt, and sadness, and anger, and bitterness, and relief, and suppressed anxiety about all of it inside of me.

It's always there, always simmering just below the surface, and sometimes it rears up and wrecks more havoc than I feel I can bare... but this whole Journey to Faith seems to be about venturing in and through all the things I thought I could not bare... but had to. 

Part of me knows I have to bare this alone and by myself, and part of me knows I need to reach out and seek and take that which needs to be given to me, and I need to accept all of it with open arms and a receptive soul that is in need a healing salve that God wants to give to me in many ways and forms.

The hole in my heart will always be there this side of Heaven. Some days, some seasons, it will bleed, some days, some seasons, it will scab and start to heal. This week it will bleed huge drops of tears and sorrow, mixed with some anger and utter devastation. 

And that is ok. 

Whatever I decide is the right thing I need to do to grieve, to remember, to celebrate, to sit with, or to move on from is going to be ok.  Whatever that will all look like, whatever I need to do, or not do, will simply be ok.

I don't have a solid plan of how I want this week to go, or what I'm going to do, or not do.. what I will share, or not share... and as not ok as that is, and as not ok as I am... it will still be ok.

Previous Post { Road To 46 Grit Challenge } HERE.

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Road to 46 Grit 300 Challenge

This past summer I was already thinking about my birthday and what I could / would / should do for a fitness "challenge" for this year.

The past several years I have done some big birthday runs, and decided to follow suit, just kicked up a notch. I found a summer challenge going on and changed it up just a little. Instead of 300 miles over the summer, I would do 300 miles in the 46 days leading up to my birthday and finish up the miles with a half marathon the morning of my birthday. Which was just a random work day, on a Wednesday.  (I mean everyone chooses to get up extra early and run extra far quick a minute before work on the morning of their birthdays, right?!)

I've been intriqued by the word Grit for the past few years. I've listened to and read (and own) Angela Duckworth's talks and book about Grit: The Power of Passion and Perserverance, so naturally I was drawn to the Believe in the Run Grit Challenge this summer when I saw it post. The wheels in my mind immediately turning as to how to change it into something personal and challenging - yet attainable - for myself.

At the beginning of the year I printed out all the new calendar pages for 2021 to add to my workout schedule folder, and I began filling it in. I first got all my training logged through my Dream BIG Princess Challenge … then moved on to filling in the 46 days to my birthday. I was busy with the calculator figuring it all out, and finally had it all set and ready to go - hitting mile 300 during a half marathon run the morning of March 10th. I put the pencil down with a smile, and a little whisper of “girlfriend why do you keep doing this to yourself…” All in all, I was confident it was doable and I was ready to dive in and do it.

I trained (and trained) and stressed out but tackled that Dream BIG Princess Challenge in January. Four days in a row with a progressive 5K, 10K, Half (13.1), and Full (26.2) Marathon. I had the shirts, and the medals, and the coffee mug… and I did it, I actually completed it all. (All inside, on my treadmill and elliptical, and all of it completely alone in my basement.)

I “allowed” myself the following week off to rest and recover. Yeah, I’m one of those people who struggles with rest, and worth, and view food as the enemy and exercise as the punishment - so to eat and not exercise is hard mentally for me… I’m not great at controlling the demons inside me screaming for chocolate and candy and all the things I’m not supposed to eat - so that also means I’m not great at allowing myself to simply “not” do any intentional exercise…

But Lord knows my body needed rest, my mind needed rest… my soul needed rest, and I was allowing myself that. And then on day four I went to stand up out of my chair for lunch … and I could feel my back go out.  It seized, it spasmed, I grabbed it all hunched over and immediately called to get in to the chiropractor.

Nope, this is not my first rodeo with back issues… I’ve bent to put my leg into a pair of shorts, I’ve bent into the wash machine to pull out clothes, I’ve stood up from a chair, I’ve sneezed - and my back has gone out and I’ve gone down. It usually takes a trip or two to the chiropractor and a few days and it’s "for the most part" better.

I wasn’t at all surprised that my back went out after the wear and tear of the days earlier. I got adjusted, it was sore, I was careful, and two days later I loaded up the car with my mom and enough food to feed a small army and we set off to my son and future daughter-in-laws new house to feed the masses that were there helping tear down old plaster and lattes. I ran errands and at some point was handed the shop vac hose to take over some vacuuming. And I bent down to begin… and my back went out again… it really went out.

During the following days, weeks, and months my back would continue to haunt me. Every day there was incredible pain and spasming. I couldn't get up by myself, I couldn't get dressed by myself, I couldn't get shoes on by myself.  I couldn’t sit at all, and I couldn’t stand for long periods of time either. I was flat on my back most of the time. I went to the chiropractor, I went for massages, I was laced up tight in a back brace, and I finally went to the doctor for some muscle relaxers about six weeks in.

It was determined that it was not a spinal issue, it was an issue of some very angry sartorius muscles. I laid on the heating pad, I did the stretches, I made myself get up and try walk enough to somewhat get it to loosen up for just a moment or two. Rest and repeat.

I watched the calendar and day 1 of the Grit Challenge was getting closer and closer, and I was not running… I was barely walking, and I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen.

In the end, I decided that I had set the goal of 300 “intentional” miles during those 46 days, and I just had to mentally settle on the fact that that “intentional” would have to be altered slightly during this time with my back.

I began watching the daily overall steps and milage on my garmin watch each day, something I hadn’t done before. I had originally set my milage goals by penciling in the distance I needed to intentionally run / elliptical / power walk each morning - all in one time interval with not stopping in between, and that was not an option, so I did what I could and kept track at the end of each day, hoping to end somewhat close to where I had originally "planned" on "needing" to do.

Walking was hard, really hard. I would have to make myself get up and move, and I began to start walking slow laps from one end of the house to the other, mutiple times a day, hunched over and breathing hard, squeezing my hands over the spasming muscles.  I continue recording the overall daily milage I got in, pushing myself to both rest and move as needed throughout each day.

I had never counted overall daily mileage before in my intentional milage, but these miles were some of the hardest and most "intentional" miles I have ever endured.  I had to figure out when to rest, when to push, and when to be done entirely.

I slowly began to walk a little on the treadmill, and in time I could also go a little while on the elliptical.  Every day I got up and tried to do what I could.  Some days were better than others, but every day hurt. Every single day was hard, and I'm still not near 100% over two months later.

In the end, while not at all what I had originally planned (umm hello, story of my life), I did actually log mile 300 during my miles the morning of my birthday.  I did earn that new mug, and I did wear that new shirt, and I did turn another year older, though sadly I did not meet many other of my wellness and fitness goals I had also pinned on that day... But nearly all my life I've entered the next year with the same hopes and goals and dreams - and nearly every year is another year I can't check all the boxes of completion.

While I may not have been at the weight I wanted or the running pace I wanted (or even running at all) or so many other things I fell short yet again on... I did however persist (and as Merriam-Webster states) with a firmness of mind or spirit with unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger, through 300 intentional miles over the course of 46 days.  I wasn't able to tick the miles off on my garmin all at one time without stopping, but lap by lap through my house, and slow mile by mile on my treadmill and elliptical, I did get those miles in.

And while I hardly allowed myself to celebrate conquering that Dream BIG Princess Challenge before my back fell apart and I was left struggling to come to terms with a body that failed me again... I have to stop myself and say - no girl, your body didn't fail you - you got every single mile in on that challenge (and the next!), and it was a hard challenge, so give yourself some credit.  Your back went out, yes, but it didn't fail me, and it does deserve both the rest and celebration of getting me to and through yet one more of my personal tests of grit.   #gritgitter

Previous blog post { Sad, Serious, and a Side of Snarky } HERE

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grit

 noun

Definition of grit

 (Entry 1 of 2)

1a: SAND, GRAVEL

b: a hard sharp granule (as of sand)also  : material (as many abrasives) composed of such granules

2: any of several sandstones

3a: the structure of a stone that adapts it to grinding

b: the size of abrasive particles usually expressed as their mesh

4: firmness of mind or spirit : unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger managed to survive by his grit and guile

Sad, Serious, and a Side of Snarky

And here I am again… the eve of turning another year older.

I’m still not at the weight I want to be. I’m still not in the shape I want to be. I’m still not where I “should be” mentally or spiritually. I’m still a hot mess wife, mother, daughter, friend, neighbor.

Another wasted 365 days of fighting with myself over my own worth, and my own happiness, and my own inner validation. Only this year I got to also add in surviving a worldwide pandemic on top of it all.

My whole life I’ve fought the inner demons of never enough, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what drives me to always feel the failure, always feel I’ve fallen short, always feel not quite there yet, no matter how much I’ve done, accomplished, or how far I’ve come.

I’m currently feeling not much more than a collection of snarky coffee mugs and virtual race medals, earned running all by myself in the dark corner of my basement. And I’m currently suffering from a back injury that is keeping me from even “really” running (not that I was actually even a "real runner" to begin with). I can walk and I can elliptical, and that simply is what is it right now, and perhaps will be forever, as my mind continues to whisper quietly to me. (Which is also heavily laced with a thick layer of guilt because I actually CAN walk and CAN do life because I'm not actually sick or in need of anything so by golly miss molly stop feeling sorry for yourself girlfriend.)

I find myself just in this simmering stage of mad, upset, frustration, disappointment… Every year… every damn year it’s the same thing. The same date on the calendar holding all the same hopes for all the same goals and all the validations for all the same things. The same memories of that little heartbeat that was there six years ago, but only for seventeen more days.

And then here it is again, the night before… and through one side of me I look over the year and know I’ve yet again fallen short. Yet again not been strong enough to get myself “there” (where ever in the hell “there” even is), and the other side of me is just holding hands tied tight with these heavy chains, face dirty with tears and grime and sweat and blood asking… pleading with myself asking why… why can’t I just be enough right where I am, exactly who I already am?!?

Why the battle, why the fight? Why?!? Why do I even seem to care so much when no one else really does (another lie whispering inside that mind of mine). It’s my life, my shadows, my demons, my skeletons in the closet… no one else’s. But this world isn’t about me, it surely doesn’t revolve around me, my issues aren’t even a blip on the radar of all reality – so, why do I put so much stock inside my own self to be the be all end all?

It’s a question that is both utter ridiculous and utterly crippling, and one that leaves me sitting right here, year after year after year.

( but have no fear.... this too shall pass... and pass and pass - and we'll talk again in another year from now and maybe ... just maybe ... by gosh by golly I'll have finally written myself a new narrative. #ornot #wink )

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