Times like this I’m thankful for my space. A space to tell my story. A space to work through the pages. A space for me to come back later and read the pages and be able to see my growth.
I am a firm believer in never shoving down the feelings that are growing inside. I did that for years. I shoved down the struggles and didn’t allow myself to feel. I felt like I didn’t deserve to struggle because on the outside looking in, I had it all. In my heart, I knew I had to be strong and being vulnerable was weakness, I thought.
I also am not a “comparison” person. I know I have so much to be thankful for, to smile for, and I am truly blessed. We have all heard the comments of “it could be worse,” or others along those lines as if we should compare our struggles and heartaches to those who are “worst off.” I find this to be a horrible concept and in fact, you could compare the opposite way as well. This concept tells us it’s not okay to feel sad about something in life, its not okay to get upset, it’s not okay to be frustrated. This theory tells us we should all just walk around smiling all damn day because there is someone that will always be “worse off.”
I let myself feel. I refuse to live a weak life. I will remain raw and real. Although I am generally an incredibly positive person, every positive person finds a funk once in a while.
I’m in the funk. I’m going to allow myself a smidgen of time to feel whatever the heck I need to feel. So that I can work through it, so I can find the root of the problem and find a solution.
Yesterday, I had two complete, tears down my face, breakdowns. I needed to let it all out. It was freeing.
Here’s the deal…I’m pissed off. I’m upset that both of the doctors I saw at the first specialist office did not take the time to truly listen to me to make sure I was being treated correctly. Shin splints and then just tendonitis or a flared up muscle were tiny things that didn’t scare me. “Take a few weeks off running and you’ll be good as new,” was their answer.
That wasn’t the case and in the mean time following their restrictions, perhaps more damage was done.
I also had a harsh slap across the face yesterday with a massive gut check. I headed out to run errands and caught a glimpse in the mirror….and there she was… the old me that went out in baggy jeans and big sweatshirts. I didn’t like the person I saw in the mirror one little bit. I went into a dressing room to take a picture of her so I could remember I’m not going to slip back that way.
I will be honest and tell you my body image is hurting some. I have struggled with loving my legs all my life…my tree trunks… they are changing, they have changed. My lower body is so weak that the muscle I have spent years building and toning is quickly turning back into fat.
Yesterday I wanted to break down in the mall as I needed to go buy a new pair of black boots… the wide calf ones as mine can no longer be zipped. But also, my left leg is often swollen which doesn’t help.
This weekend I looked outside so many times…60 degree sunny days in November…and all I wanted to do was go for a run on the trail with all the gorgeous leaves around me. But, I had zero choice in this manner.
Yes, I was a person who never believed people when they said they truly LOVE working out. I mean, really?! So maybe before a workout I don’t love it, but after, that feeling does me so good: mentally + emotionally.
So, I’m in a funk. You better believe I won’t stay here for long. But I am going to let myself feel whatever it is I need to feel quickly and then I’m going to go back to focusing on my positives.
I do believe that the moments we find ourselves deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, unfulfilled or just struggling are the moments that we become propelled again. It’s as if our discomfort launches us to step out of our ruts and begin a new quest for different ways, new goals, better solutions or truer answers.
In other words, our discomfort sets us up for a come back.
In a day or two I’ll be on my way back. But, there could be one more good cry before that happens and I’m okay with that.
In a year, I’ll look back to this page in my story here in my space and I’ll smile at my funk as it will feel like a distant memory.
Until Next Time~
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