The Truth

People will ask me "How are you doing?" And usually I say something like "I'm going okay" or "I'm getting better all the time." And, that's true, but it's not really the truth, at least some of the time.

The truth is, I'm not doing well. I'm struggling right now. I don't actually think the steroid treatments are working like they should. I walked into the locker room at the Y the other day and I didn't know where I was. My head feels like it's going to explode a good bit of the time now. I'm struggling to find words more than I would like. I'm having to check my calendar a hundred times a day to make sure I'm where I'm supposed to be.

But...I AM better than I was a year ago.

For as long as I can remember I have been a person who tried very hard to focus on the positive. If things were going poorly I would tell myself they could still be worse. Things can always be worse.


But the truth is that things could be A LOT better right now. And the truth is I don't know how to make them better. My MO has always been to simply focus on the positive and not let the negative pull me down. But my MO has also always been to focus on making things better.

I don't think those things REALLY go together.

Let me give an example. Say I take a test and I get a 98%. Focusing on the positive would be celebrating the 98%!! YAY! But I wouldn't do that. I'd look for the reason(s) I didn't make a 100%. To spend time focusing on that 2% is NOT focusing on the positive, especially if that 2% can't be made up or changed.

I think the truth is that I would be upset over the 2% FAILURE but I would put on a happy face and tell myself (and other people) that things could be much worse, I could be a 3% FAILURE!

There's something very disingenuous about that. To feel like a failure internally and to put on a happy face about that feeling of failure. But I don't think the answer is to proclaim failure. I am learning the answer is to maybe say "I feel sad that I didn't make 100% but it's okay"...if that's the truth. If that's not the truth then maybe spending some time working on making that the truth is a better use of time as opposed to working on ways to correct that 2%??

I'm sure you can tell I'm struggling here....and it's not the brain disease causing the struggle.

I think for me when I say "I'm doing great", I want that to be true. I recognize the truth of the statement. My situation could be SO MUCH worse that I really am doing great when compared to a lot of worse things that could be happening. But there is another very equal truth I (usually) don't say.... I'm not doing okay right now.

I don't want how I'm "doing" (my state of being) to be dependent on how I'm feeling. I want to be the master of my feelings, the master of my perspective. And, I've always held the belief that my perspective determines my feelings.

Feelings are fickle. Feelings are dependent on the circumstance. Feelings don't care that things could be worse, they just feel how they feel. Like unruly children.

That feels very chaotic and random. If my feelings determine my state of being (how I'm doing) then I can't be positive. I can't make it a great day. I can't embrace the idea that things could be worse because sometimes I feel pretty darn bad.

But what happens when a child is trying to express something and they aren't heard? They get louder and more unruly. Adults who don't understand this can work to suppress the child even more and you end up with a downward spiral that doesn't serve any good purpose at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think I go around trying to suppress my feelings. I just try to get them to line up with my beliefs about life. Things could be worse. I don't accept negative. I work toward being better, always. Feeling sad or hurt (or grieving over how things are not the way I want them to be) is just like that 2%...it's something to correct.

It's like there's this battle. I feel ashamed for grieving over the state of my health because I have friends who have much bigger health struggles going on right now. I feel like I have NO RIGHT to be upset over the little things I'm dealing with. At the same time I want to make those little things better and I simply do NOT know how. (Depending on who you ask there isn't a way to make them better--I do NOT accept that answer!) That causes a feeling of helplessness that I refuse to tolerate. Helpless is vulnerable.

Maybe the key is just feeling the grief I have over the state of my health and being honest that things are really not good without the judgement that I have no right to feel that way. Or maybe the key is to accept that 98% is really good and to completely celebrate how good it really is without trying to make up the 2% difference??

...The problem is that I don't really have a good perspective of what percentage of failure I'm at right now. I'm not dead so I'm better than 0%. But I'm certainly NOT close to 100%.

To not work to correct the percentage of "failure" I'm living in right now feels like giving up. To not grieve over the loss feels dishonest. I think I'm being stretched to allow both to be true at the same time. Grieve and work, but at the same time celebrate where I am and rest from all the work and grief.

A goal I've had for a very long time is to bring myself fully to life. The truth is that's complicated and messy and really very hard.

Thanks for stopping in and sticking around. I realized I didn't write about the RACE I ran in February!! I'll post a recap soon. It will be nice for this running blog to actually have some posts about running!! :D

BEAST!!

I want to write up a full recap of yesterday's "race"...but I don't have time right now so I'll give the short version (yes, that is possible for me to do!).

It was cold and windy.  I seriously almost backed out of doing this race a thousand times, right up to the time we took off.  I secretly told myself if I made it to the big hill and quit there I'd be okay (embarrassed but okay). 

Let me back up to Friday for a second...I drove the whole course once and the hard hill TWO MORE TIMES!!  I played a couple of songs and even took a video of the last few miles with those songs playing.  I watched it no less than five times.  Let me tell you...there's nothing like having theme music for a hill climb!! ((I added one of the songs to my playlist--"The Saints Are Coming".)) 

Back to the race...It's funny because all the hills that would normally completely FREAK ME OUT before really didn't yesterday because I had already been on the first part of the course on my bike.  That was my saving grace.  I kept thinking, and saying outloud, "I've done this before...I've been here...I've already survived this and it wasn't bad."   When I got to the section I had videoed I had the songs running through my head and in my mind I was just watching the screen.  I knew how long each climb would be even when I came to a spot where I couldn't see the top.  I had picked out some landmarks to mark easier sections and knew when the hard climb was coming so I could mentally prepare (or quit...just being honest).

In a nutshell...I did it!!  I didn't stop.  I didn't get out of the saddle (not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I think it's good).  And...I came in THIRD PLACE!!!  It sounds really good until you find out there were only three of us there!!!  The first place girl was a 15 year old who's 17 year old sister had just done the B race (2 loops) and then rode with her sister for a third loop...they are both AMAZING and were way in front of us after about 5 or so miles.  Second place was a Tribe-mate of mine who is an Ironman.  We rode together the whole time (with her leading...but I refused to draft off her after it became apparent I wasn't going to be able to pull her for more than a couple of minutes...it just wouldn't have been fair).  We finished pretty much side-by-side with her out in front about 10".

I promise I'm not trying to over-exaggerate here...but yesterday was truly life-changing for me.  I told my husband later, I remember the day I held a mouse and I remember the day I sat on my roof...and I will forever remember the day I rode up that monster-sized BEAST hill!!  (If that didn't make sense, read my previous post...)

More later...

Thanks for stopping in, come again soon!
:D

Cimbing the Steps and Getting on the Roof

A couple of weeks ago (2 1/2 to be exact) some of the e3 "Tribe" went on a training ride.  If you read the post I wrote about what I need to sacrifice in order to reach my goal, you'll remember just how not-well that ride went.

I have been told this Saturday I'll be participating in my first ever bike race.  I would actually be excited, if not for the fact the route includes a HARDER climb than the one I failed on two and a half weeks ago.  I had anxiety dreams about it all last night.

****IRONIC SIDE NOTE:  as I'm writing this post I have my blog opened up on another page, listening to my music...just as I typed that last period, "Gonna Fly Now" came on.  "Getting strong now...won't be long now...getting strong now.......gonna fly now...flying high now....gonna fly...."...  It's actually hard to keep freaking out with a song like that playing in the background, especially with the mental image of Rocky bounding up all those steps!!

Okay...instead of writing all the things I intended to write-mainly about how MUCH I'M FREAKING OUT, all the anxiety I have about the climb involved in this race, and all the reasons (REASONS not excuses) I have about being completely JUSTIFIED in that freak out, I'm going to do my best to put my big girl pants on.

*** WARNING, you might get a little whip-lash reading this post because I'm sure it will reflect the back and forth going on in my mind right now. ***

I remember one time when my ex-husband and our kids went to an amusement park.  My two kids were born fearless and LOVED roller coasters.  My ex-step-son, however, HATED them.  He was terrified to even climb the steps going up to a non-scary ride--the steps alone were enough to freak him out.  The first time we (okay, I) tried to get him to go up the steps I remember trying to rationalize with him...the stairs were VERY wide (like 7' across), they were sturdy and strong, there was a high railing all the way up, he didn't even have to be close to the edge.  He wanted to go on the ride, he just didn't want to climb those steps thanks to a completely irrational fear, something I was all too familiar with myself.

When I was a little girl my brother and I went to this park down the street.  He could swing so high I thought he would go right over the top.  Not only that, he could jump out at the height of the arc and FLY through the air like an acrobat.  Not only could I not go that high, no matter what I tried, I couldn't make myself jump out.  

When we moved away, my dad made a rope swing for me in the back yard, sort of like the one in the picture (but way cooler).  After quite a bit of practice, I could swing high and jump out, although never as good as my brother.  

One afternoon I got on that swing and starting pumping my legs...the next thing I knew I was flat on my back and couldn't breathe.  It was one of the worst things I had felt in my young life; skinned knees are nothing compared being unable to inhale!  When I got up I realized one of the ropes had broken.  Even as young as I was, I knew I needed to get back on that swing.  In my infinite wisdom, I grabbed up the rope and tried to play Tarzan.  I was shaking so violently I couldn't hold on and, low-and-behold, I fell again.  

A few years later I almost had a panic attack when I had to climb a ladder about 14 feet.  I didn't know where the fear was coming from because I couldn't remember ever being afraid of heights...but it was there for some reason.  As I thought back, I vividly recalled the breathless terror I felt when the rope swing broke.

The panic attack ladder experience, combined with everything I had learned about desensitization therapy in college (my degree is in psychology) led me on a quest to overcome the acrophobia which had advanced to the point I was unable to get onto my husband's shoulders (he was 6'4").  I started with climbing a ladder, then ventured up onto to the roof of our house, and eventually was able to peer over the side, even sitting on the edge, with my feet hanging over.  (A few years later this skill came in handy when I took a job as an insurance adjuster.  I climbed on over 1,000 roofs in the ten years I worked claims.)

Yeah...this isn't working.  As much as I want to be a big girl and "climb those steps" I just don't think I'm mentally prepared.  Daisy asked me today what I'm afraid of.  The honest answer is, I just don't think I can do it.  If I had a doctor tell me she had run some tests which proved conclusively I had the physical capability to lift 500 pounds, I wouldn't even try because I don't believe I can.  I would rather be told I have to go ride 100 miles of rollers than to be told I have to climb one continuous mile of steep hill.  The century would be hard, but in my mind the steep hill is beyond me.  And...I know with thinking like that, it is.  That very thing killed me last time--I got scared and put on my own brakes. 

There is part of me that understands the only way to overcome the fear I have is to face it head on and tackle it...at the same time, my experience with myself tells me the best way for me to do that is one step at a time.  The only other fear I've had (that I can think of) was a fear of mice.  I honestly couldn't even THINK about a mouse (except MAYBE Mickey) without FREAKING OUT.  Overcoming musophobia started with just getting used to talking about them...which progressed to going to the pet store to look at them from a few feet away...eventually being able to walk up to where they were kept...until I finally I got up the nerve one day to hold one of them.  I can't say I like mice, but I could see one today without screaming and jumping onto the nearest high thing around me.  As far as heights go...I was completely fine until I broke my tailbone skydiving!!  (I'm not scared of heights but I probably won't go skydiving again any time soon.)

I also know there is nothing anyone can say or do to take this fear away from me.  It's irrational.  It's stupid to be afraid of riding a bike up a hill.  I know that.  "Knowing" how stupid and irrational it is doesn't help.  Having someone beside me won't help.  But, I do know riding flat roads will only allow that fear to persist.  That is unacceptable to me.  Will I conquer the fear this weekend?  I'll let you know.

Thanks for stopping in, come again soon!

:D