The past two weeks were a roller coaster.

A naive part of me expected the decision to choose calm would mean I would feel calm in all situations. This is not the case. Despite choosing calm, I have not felt calm much of the time.

I am generally resilient and able to go with the flow. My semi-detached attitude has served me well in this respect. However, as I’m being more intentional about investing in my desired outcomes, the negative thoughts have been increasingly noisy. I started to feel panicked that I was yet again being a fool for even think about wanting things. It got to the point early last week I about had a meltdown in Walmart because the very kind associate was unable to replace my watch battery. A simple errand and I can’t even get that?!

I’m learning – again – that decisions like this are ongoing. They are made every day, every moment. While on my long run yesterday (the last before the race in two weeks!) I realized that choosing calm is less about remaining chill and more about facing what makes me anxious.

An example of this is that I worried a lot last week about some messages I’d sent a friend. I knew they had all kinds of life happening and did not expect a response. At the same time, in the silence, I started wondered if I’d over-stepped my bounds. I feared would be seen as pestering instead of encouraging; burdensome instead helpful. I was also concerned that I was making unnecessary allowances and minimizing myself again.

So, after my run, I sent a short note clarifying my intent. I felt better. They’re still working through their stuff, but they have a little better understanding of my style of support. And I have a better idea of how to show them encouragement.

This is something I’m want to do more of: intentionally act upon the thing that is troubling me. I find that most of my problems are me worrying about something I try to rationalize as no big deal. Well, it must be some kind of deal or I wouldn’t be thinking about it so much.

Sometimes the troublesome thing is subtle. Talking again about the race, this whole time I’ve been thinking about needing to run it, while allowing myself to walk as much as I need. Another long-run revelation was that this is setting me up for disappointment. While I would love to run the whole thing, that isn’t feasible. The reality is that although I can run for quite awhile, it also leaves me vulnerable to more neuro issues and other symptoms. I will reach a point where I can’t run any more and will just have to walk.

However, I can walk quite briskly for long periods of time with almost no problems. I can drink water without stomach issues and don’t experience double vision. Why this is the case is beyond me. My fast walk isn’t much slower than my slow jog, but there you go.

So, I’ve decided to approach this race as a fast-paced hike where any amount of running is a bonus. This way, I’m less likely to cause my body to glitch out. It’ll be more enjoyable and more relaxed.

I feeling calm and confident tonight. I know anxious times will be in my future. Here's to choosing well!

 I am in a writing mood but don’t know what to say. This is a time of waiting, which often means there’s not a lot to report. Yet, things are Happening. Changing. Developing.

I still feel calm. Not 100% of the time, but remarkably so. Often these in-between times are a source of anxiety, my head filled with circular thoughts that will not stop. Something is different this time. Despite being fully aware that things may not go the way I would like, I don’t feel flustered by those possibilities. I am where I should be. This is a new feeling and I like it.

I am choosing the calm.

The calmness is carrying over into my thoughts about the race, now 25 days away. I am woefully under trained and that’s okay. I’m doing what I can and I believe I’ll enjoy the experience. I’m already enjoying just running to run. I didn’t realize how much the shame I was experiencing for not being as healthy as my pre-seizure self until I started leaving those thoughts behind. It will be good to let go of that completely.

I am choosing the calm.

My new job is, well, new, and I’m starting to get a handle on what I need to do. As to be expected, the bureaucracy is a bit much. My fellow teachers are great, but some members of the support staff are misreading quieter style and thinking I need help when I don’t. A lot of this is intensely frustrating and needs to stop. At the same time, it’s nice to see how much more confident I am as a teacher than in years past. I am able to keep my cool and not lose sleep. Things are improving. Mostly.

I am choosing the calm.

​ I felt calm around you. I felt many other things as well, but calm...calm stands out. It was grounding, giving everything else more substance. Excitement without getting ahead of myself. Sadness without despairing. Comforted without worrying I’m being burdensome. Concern without fretting. Around you, I felt naturally present in the moment in a way unfamiliar to me.

I’ve felt many things since you told me your news. You’ve chosen yourself for all the right reasons, and my respect for you has multiplied. You’ve chosen to face what’s in front of you, and, cheesy as it sounds, I feel proud.

Looking at you, I feel nothing but supportive.

Looking at myself...*sigh*...

I have a long history of people taking me for granted. It’s honestly something I don’t like to think about. Yes, I’ve gotten to a point where I can talk openly about the deeply rooted insecurity that I’m not worth remembering. But taking a collective look at the stories that gave that root life? No, thank you.

Those stories are the reason I feel anxious and distrustful of people’s motives. They’re the reason I keep a distance. They're the reason certain situations make me cringe so hard with shame. They’re reason that, the day after we talked, I was ugly crying in my car, nearly panicked.

It was happening again. Another person I liked and cared about was moving on and leaving me behind. I’d fulfilled my role.

Yet that’s not what happened. In those other stories – the stories I don’t look at but they shape life my all same – in those, the other parties never saw me. Not really. You saw me, though. You considered me as you faced yourself and started taking the necessary steps. You didn’t avoid me. You didn’t lie, deflect, or make excuses. You were honest.

I don’t know what is next, but I do know I want a new narrative. Yes, these things happened to me. Yes, they are painful to recall. Yes, there are risks. It is time. I know it is time because once I decided to tell these stories as they are, the panic subsided. I want to tell you my stories. I want to hear yours.

I feel calm about you. That’s worth paying attention to.

I have not been training well for the 50k. Between the heat and starting a new job, it’s been hard to maintain a schedule. Not to mention that I just get tired. A good workout sometimes means I can’t do much else the rest of the day. Alternatively, a busy day at work can leave me too glitchy to feel safe working out. Any routine has to allow room for my symptoms.

It’s not all bad, though. I can run 10 miles reliably enough, and I’m having less trouble with reflux. Also, a change in medication has improved my symptom management. Yes, they still show up (Saturday I cut my run short because of double-vision) but, I’ve really been testing the limits lately. I’m actually impressed with how little they’ve interfered.

I want to do these next few weeks well. On a practical level, I want to plan better lunches so that I can do a simple workout when I get home. Needing a snack slows my momentum and I end up just lounging until I go to bed. I don’t need to do anything fancy, but I want to do something daily. Friday or Saturday can be my long day.

I want this experience to improve my relationship with my body. Not so much in an “overcoming limitations” kind of way, but more in accepting what I can and cannot do. I want to be comfortably present within my body. I want to move on from the disappointment I’ve been feeling since I got sick. I’m not sure how this race will help with this, but it appears to be the way forward.

I have no expectations of awesomeness. I hope to finish in under 8 hours, but under 10 will be great if reflux and other issues make an appearance. Finishing is the goal, and I know I can do that.

I love running and will keep running, but I haven’t enjoyed the pressure of the looming deadline. I’m glad I’m doing this but I’ve learned I want a more relaxed relationship with running.

Truthfully, what I really want is a more relaxed relationship with myself.

 I’m not good at wanting things.

Back when I was applying for colleges, my main criteria was “not in New England.” So, I went to college in St. Louis. Ironically, my school was basically the Midwest version of the posh schools I most wanted to avoid. When picking a major, I wanted to study biology, but I also didn’t want to write a lot of papers. To avoid that, I minored in electrical engineering, which allowed me to replace liberal arts with heavy math. Since you are reading this blog, you can see that my interests have shifted since then.

Later, I didn’t want to become a classroom teacher; that felt like a box.
I didn’t want anything to do with middle school; that age sucks!
I didn’t want to teach in an urban district; I didn’t feel confident.

I invested a lot of energy avoiding those things only to become a classroom teacher in an urban middle school, and love it.

I can’t say I entirely regret any of the above decisions because I like where I ended up and many of the people who came into my life as a result. However, it is fair to say that I don’t always know what’s best for me.

My habit of avoiding things I don’t want extends into less concrete areas of my life. I don’t want to be a bother. I don’t want to hurt others. I don’t want others to hurt me. I don’t want to be too much. I don’t want to do too little. I don’t want to be late. I don’t want to make others rush. I don’t want make mistakes. I don’t want to miss out. I don’t want to butt in. I don’t want to be the center of attention. I don’t want to be overlooked.

Don’t want, don’t want, don’t want...

All of those objectives, yet when people ask me what I do want, what I do like, my response is usually, “ummm…”

This isn’t to say that I never want things. I wanted to be a biology major. I wanted to teach science. I want undisturbed sleep. It’s more that my life has been shaped more by me avoiding things I don’t want than it has been by me going after the things I do want.

I’m only just beginning to understand this part of myself, but I know that this tendency is rooted in fear and self-protection. I can recall distinct moments in 4th and 5th grade when I made certain choices I didn’t want to be teased. I didn’t choose what I liked, I chose what was most acceptable to my peers.

I could dwell quite awhile on the many ways and means my avoidance habit has played out, but I want to focus on the future. This past week has made me realize how much I need to shift my thinking.

The other day I learned an opportunity I was optimistic about wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped. I’m not going to go into the particulars, but I entered the situation wanting to avoid old habits and pitfalls that have caused problems in the past. I think I did this. Looking back, I can’t think of any moments that have me cringing, “ugh, not again!”

Yet things didn’t work out. Even though I avoided everything I set out to avoid, things still didn’t work out. For very good and valid reasons that I fully support, and yet...

I’ve experienced a lot of conflicting emotions the past few days, and they can best be summarized as this: successfully avoiding past mistakes and still getting the same result sucks eggs. It’s incredibly painful. Heartbreaking even.

This is where the shift in thinking comes in. It wasn’t the same result. On the surface it is, but deeper down, there's important differences. I can see where I’ve grown. I can see where I took more risks. That’s a really big deal. And the opportunity itself isn’t ruined. It’s just...different. A larger bucket of possibilities, one could say.

So, moving forward, I want to focus on what I want. Even when I don’t know what I want. I want to value myself and others. I want to be honest. I want to be kind. I want to take risks. I want to speak up. I want to be quiet. I want to face fears. I want to hang in there. I want to feel my feelings. I want the people I care about to know that I care about them. I want to be brave. I want to be seen.

​

The past few weeks have been really good. I’ve finished one week of training at my new job and I’m liking the atmosphere. It’s refreshing to be in a setting where the majority accepts the reality of the circumstances. This past Friday I was feeling confident and optimistic about many things.

Over the weekend, however, my confidence eroded. It started small when, Friday evening, I learned that I’d made a typo in the recipient’s email when requesting my college transcripts. Hopefully the registrar will be understanding, but this may mean that I threw money away on my first request and will have to pay for a second.

I made the same typo when asking for reference letters, so I had to ask my former bosses to resend. This was not the worst mistake, but it’s the kind that has me wondering how I’m doing. Am I really healthy enough to go back to teaching? Will I be able to function or will this type of clumsy mistake happen more frequently?

Adding to this, someone I talk to regularly was busy and having a bit of a rough time, so I didn’t hear from them as much. This is perfectly understandable. I don’t expect anyone to talk to me all the time, especially when going through things. At the same time, I don’t know what to do with prolonged silence. Do I reach out? Do I stay quiet and allow space? I don’t want to bother anyone, nor do I want to neglect them.

This dilemma really hit home today (Sunday). I’d assumed there’d be time to talk and get sorted. Instead, other plans were made, another person needed a favor and that was where their day went. Left brain understands that’s just how things happen sometimes. Right brain...right brain is mocking me for, yet again, giving a person space only for someone else to fill it.

This will all get worked out. I’ve taken steps to have the needed conversations. I’m sad that my insecurities are rising up, and also proud of myself for not avoiding them. I can see how I’ve grown. Maybe that’s why these doubts keep being so nasty lately. They’re mad my broken places are healing.

I feel blue today. September, so far, is loaded with change. At CFV, things for are slowly picking up again after being on pause since the theatre camp. Next week I start training for a new part-time job that seems like it’ll be a good fit in and of itself, as well as being compatible with CFV. I’m looking forward to having a regular schedule and steadier income. Outside of work, I’m finally developing the beginnings of a social life, having met a few people who are interested and interesting.

All of these are good things, welcome things. I’m excited and want all of them to happen and to go well.

I think that’s why I’m blue. I want to be open to all the possibilities, and those possibilities include failure. There’s a risk with everything, and these risks are bringing up the old, persistent voices that mock me for even trying.

My most tangible fear it that I’ll become too tired to handle everything. Being tired is inevitable. As much as I’ve learned about managing my neuro symptoms, fatigue and stress still have the power to wreck me. At certain angles, adding all these things to my life seems like a recipe for disaster. Especially when I remember that I have a 50k in eight and a half weeks...

In the past, historically and habitually, I’d handle these transitional seasons by choosing one thing at a time to focus on. Usually this would be work. Relationships could be sorted out later. Unfortunately, more often than not, my choices kept would-be friends at a distance, holding them off until I could get myself together. Some of my biggest regrets are tied to the way I have underestimated several amazing people by chosing to isolate myself, denying them the chance to be there for me.

I feel untethered. As much as I like the idea of being anchored, I'm also afraid of tying myself too tightly to the wrong thing and become stuck. This in-between space is uncomfortable and confusing and, at the same time, too important to rush.

It makes sense that my insecurities are bubbling up. If I cared less about the outcomes, the doubts wouldn’t be so noisy.  

I’d still like to do one thing at a time, though. Finish training for the race. Get settled into the job. Establish friendships.

Writing it out, I can see the ridiculousness of having these things on a step-by-step checklist. They can all happen at the same time. Arguably, simultaneously may be the best way to go.
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Sigh...breaking old habits is hard...