Angry girl walking

Last night I went for a run. Which is a fairly common occurrence for me now, although a hard habit to grow at first. A few months ago, I started to go for runs (ok, fine, they are walks usually, with small spurts of running) to help with strengthening my leg after the break, and to help shed some pounds if I could. A two-fer. What I didn’t anticipate when starting this habit was the relief it gave me. Not from pain or weight loss. Relief from life, I guess?

It started small, like a chore I took on cause Im a 37 year old female who needs to start seriously considering how her body is changing and how she wants to be able to be able bodied and strong in 20 years. It was tough. I was tired and sore after walking around the lake I live on at first. It’s a 1.3 mile walk. And it has helped me in the intended ways, I have definitely made my legs stronger and started to lose weight, but, the mental relief is an unexpected benefit. I’ve started to look at running shoes and cultivating a play list of music to aid me while I move. The main reason I bring this up is because last night, when I went for this exercise, I wanted to make myself tired. The mental weight from the last few weeks was so heavy. I wanted to run until I vomited. I wanted to run and sweat and ache from exertion. I felt like the distance wasn’t long enough and my pace wasn’t fast enough and my music wasn’t loud enough. I wanted to pound the concrete with my shoes. I wanted to eat the pavement with my strides. Like Roy Kent from Ted Lasso (greatest show ever, no arguments), I was running like I was angry at the sidewalk. I was gritting my teeth and wiping away tears from over thinking. People who may of looked out their window or glanced over as they drove by me would see me talking to myself, moving my lips with scrunched up eye brows, mean strides and clenched fists. It was an angry girl walk. I probably would have ran to the moon if I could have last night. Honestly, it helped tremendously. I have been in a tilt-a-whirl for a while and I keep thinking it’s over and then, another thing happens and Im tossed back again, realizing the road to where I want to be and the road Im currently on are further apart than I thought. And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being so brave and strong and persistent. Im tired of taking the high road. I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired.

I am so over the never ending drama with trying to raise my kids on my own with so little support from their dad. It feels like he’s been siphoning happiness from my life and we aren’t even together. Why do I feel like I am the only person who is going through such a tumultuous time? How is everyone just gallivanting through life, lapping me and jumping over hurdles and I wake up and feel terror at the things I have no idea how to tackle? My air conditioning malfunctioning. My garbage disposal not working. My sink leaking. My roof leaking. My new car started to make a weird noise, so I drive with my radio louder now so I can have some semblance of peace. My kids trying to just navigate teenage years and I’m sitting there with 8,000 things on my plate, trying to make space for the things they care about, weighing the consequences of what I’ll have to drop in order to take care of their needs. And I’ll gladly do it for them, but I’ll still have to deal with the choices of what I drop off at some point. I have been silently going through it for a while because I have been so ashamed of the struggles I go through. Do you know the shame I feel at being a single parent? Why is this shameful? Idk but I still feel it. Trying to plan 3 day staycation on the beach at a tiny hotel makes me so proud but also, sheepish cause I can’t afford some grand hotel that has lazy rivers and free breakfast. It’s hard for me to talk about these things. I thought I was good about sharing my troubles but I think I’ve gotten good at sharing the small stuff but I bottle up the big stuff cause it’s shameful. At least to me it is. And to be honest, most of these trouble are insanely personal but I think my vat of worries is full and brimming with trouble and it’s starting to spill and I can’t contain it anymore. So I’d rather just open the flood gates and let it out all at once and maybe have a chance to collect my thoughts when my tears dry.

Parenthood really is the hood. I’m dodging bullets, boarding up my heart, standing guard at my door and yelling at people (my kids) as they drive slowly around my house. Metaphorically speaking.

It’s so funny to me the thoughts I’ve had in the last 24 hours. How comical I find the effort and progress I thought I made only to find myself back here. I’m not at square one, but I feel like I’m in the single digits once again. Is this normal? Someone, anyone, please, let me know. Is this how everyone feels or am I patient zero, going through this alone cause I’m obviously a terrible parent, a lousy friend and all around shitty human being?

I have been trying. And I’m still struggling.

I thought for the longest time that God had abandoned me. That he saw I was hopeless and while he didn’t wipe me off the map, he has let me drift so far out until I could no longer see shore and was basically drift wood, all sunburnt and water logged. And while I know it isn’t true, it still feels true. My purpose feels far away. My worth feels like spilt ends, cut from the ends of my hair. It used to hold value but now is just another thing to be swept up with the dirt and dog hair. And this frightens me. I used to see awful things that have happened and it would spur me into action. And now when things fall apart, I just sigh and shrug. My bar for the quality I expect from my life, and from others, has dipped and I couldn’t even tell you when or where it happened. All I know is that I’m looking around and it’s no longer the world as I’ve known it around me. It’s now murky and dark and damp and stressful. There are scoundrels and thieves and trickers about, waiting for me to slip and gobble me up. I know it sounds silly but it’s the truth.

And while it sucks now, I know it won’t suck forever…right? Anyone?

Until then, I guess I’m just going to keep trying. I’m going to go for a run today and run my feet into the pavement until the soles of my feel are warm from the pace of my sneakers hitting the ground. I may boohoo when I’m alone again today but at least I’m not out here with someone’s dusty son ruining my life. I will continue to budget my income to save for my vacation and wrestling classes for my son, and my daughter’s frilly things and maybe even have some spare change for groceries. Because I am the last resort. I’m the first and middle resort also, but we’re past that. No need to linger on those details right? Hopefully one day soon, I’ll be singing that song by the Beatles, “Here comes the sun, do do do do”.

Until then, we’re listening to Testify by Rage Against the Machine. When you see me running around my neighborhood with a scowl on my face, looking like I’m angry at the world, its cause I am. But, at least I’ll be jamming.

P. S. After writing the post, on my drive home from work, I got a flat tire. Cheers!