Owning it

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It is not a wrong thing. It is ok to feel disappointed. It is ok to feel frustrated and angry with myself. It is even ok to feel sad and discouraged with myself. Really, it is allowable. It is ok.

The multiple emotions and feelings are allowed to bother me and make me think. I am allowed to struggle with them and wrestle with them. I can accept that there are no answers right now. I can almost accept that is even ok if the answers never come. All of this may have a right to consume me, yet it is not allowed to destroy me.

I don't understand it and may never understand it all, yet this is my battle and this is my war. I only lose if I quit trying. I only fail if I walk away. As always, I must remember that I am in control of my future. I am in control of my life. I am in control of this moment.

I sat in church this morning just thinking and praying. Can't really tell you what was talked about - my agenda was to find some peace, a plan, an answer. I was just looking for something. Some thing other than the emotional pain - a way to calm things down. 

Really, I am ok with the existence of the conflicting feelings and emotions. I mean I enjoy pondering and working through things and coming up with answers. It is when it dominates my daily living that I start having a problem with it all. Contrary to how it may appear, I do like to function as a mentally healthy person. All I am getting back for an answer is that it may not subside any time soon, therefore what can I do to make things ok while I live with and work through it.

As tough as the last week or so has been, there has been good too. What are the good things that happened? I laughed a lot. Yes, I smiled and I laughed. I told jokes and made light of life. I am always good for a laugh or a story. Even though the darkness feels like it lasts for long periods of time, if you look back you can usually find that there was bright moments in there too. 

I ran on a treadmill. I ran. Ok, so it was in 1 to 1.5 minute intervals every 3-5 minutes, yet my feet and legs moved at a faster pace than a walk, and I wasn't hanging on. I had never done this before. The priceless moment was when the AT came out of her office and out of the gym only to turn around and come back in and just look at me in astonishment.Yes, I ran on the treadmill...and there were witnesses. Once the legs were done, I was done. I tried one more spurt and they were not going to do it. The PT called out from her office, "you're done!" Since I had promised her once that I would not fall off of or pass out on the treadmill, I called it quits. I really thought my knees would haunt me the next day, yet I was good. Legs were a bit sore, yet all was good. Dude, I ran. Yes, I didn't achieve my goal, as I was still mad at myself afterwards, yet I ran.

I spent a lot of time with the athletes this week. They always take my mind off things. It's known that if you can't find me in my office, go look in the gym. You can't be around them and not feel good. I had fun going Friday evening and shooting photos of the women's basketball team at the game. They were excited to have me there as well. Sure, my mind was still in all out struggle with things, yet I just tried to keep my conscious focus on the good things. It was like I was telling my thoughts, feelings, and emotions that if they wanted to keep arguing, that was fine, yet I was going to shoot photos and enjoy the game. Argue away, I have something to do. So, for a couple hours, I was able to distract from it.

And, of course, the missionaries. My guardian angels. They always seem to show up, call, or text at the right time. Well, they are inspired servants of God, why wouldn't they? You would think that by now that it would not amaze me, yet it does every time. I have a special relationship with them and I love it. I'm sure part of it is the fact that I once did the same thing they are doing. I can relate to missionary life and can offer some wisdom. I look out for them because I find joy in that. As well, a lot of families looked out for me when I was on my mission and in a small way this is a way I can thank them. 

They love to come to my house. They know if they come here, they have to teach me something and I get to teach them something - it's not just coming to hang out. They don't even complain about my simple cooking abilities. Several of them have told me that this is the one place they know they can come, relax, and just be themselves. They step in the door and say, "I'm home." That is quite a complement for me. I pride myself in having my home a place of peace and comfort for anyone that comes here. My friends in Charleston used to refer to my place as "the convent" because I would not allow contention of any kind in my house. All arguments or disagreements had to be taken outside. I took pride in my house being someplace anyone could come to and feel safe, calm, and relaxed. I still do. As much grief as they gave me, my friends loved to come over and escape the world.

I'm still not sure what to do about all the thoughts and feelings. It just keeps building and building even unconsciously. It's like a can of soda that keeps getting shaken up and never sits long enough to stabilize before getting shaken again. At some point the pressure becomes too much and the can explodes. That's my fear, that it's going to keep building up to a breaking point - and it's not too far off. It is the storm coming in. If I could snap my fingers and have a healthy breakdown, I really would. It would seem that in my repertoire of survival skills, I have perfected not allowing myself to have a breakdown, at least not in a healthy way. I give full permission for someone to take a sledge hammer to that wall at any time. I would do it myself, yet it would seem I can't find the wall to hit it. I am on a hunt to find it though. Let's just hope I find it and destroy it before I run into it and it destroys me.

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