Makes Me Work a Little Bit Harder

Posted on by
Reply

Today a rather interesting question was asked on a forum I belong to.

What’s your coping mechanism?


If you would have asked me this question a few years ago, I probably would have said drinking and writing. After some less than desirable outcomes from the drinking bit I made damn sure, and still make damn sure, that when I’m upset I don’t go drinking.

Sobbing, drunk Ann is neither attractive nor desirable to be around. Hungover, still upset Ann is even worse.

Clearly I still write, but I have found that though the release is desirable, more and more lately my words are getting caught, stuck in my brain and unwilling to be coaxed out, forcefully or otherwise. It’s requiring me to take time to process rather than just opening up a blank document and writingwritingwriting until I feel marginally better.

So I work out.

I have mentally gone over the last two years or so and have tried to pinpoint what I’ve done at a few certain less-than-pleasant junctures.

Unexpected and somewhat cruel breakup followed by subsequent heart break? That was when I decided I was going to do the Hundred Pushup Challenge. I was well on my way, too, and then there was the broken finger and surgerizing and being told I was not allowed to do pushups with a pin in my finger.

Round two with the aforementioned breaker upper (because I am apparently a masochist)? I joined the gym and started lifting on a regular basis.

Losing That Friend’s family from my life and then very consciously, even if entirely painfully, removing him as well? I signed up for a half marathon.

The abrupt departure of one of my best friends as such and within minutes (unfortunately) walking right by the stack of pictures she and I had taken together over the past few years? I ran so hard I nearly puked.

If I have bad days at work or get frustrated working with my budget or any other number of things that have pissed me off or hurt me, I work out. I push myself until I physically can’t do any more because it makes it all go away.

The endorphin boost brings my mood if not up to good, then at least to neutral. It gives me something to be proud of even if I’m feeling like a failure.

It usually hurts, but I’ve done that to myself. Adding a little extra weight here, sprinting up a hill there, forcing myself to lift more, run faster, try harder all brings that inevitable soreness to the muscles that are angry with me for doing so.

Physical pain is so much easier to deal with than emotional pain.

Not only that but working out is one of the few times where I can actually get my mind to just stop. All my attention, all my focus is shifted towards good form or the beat of the music I’m running to or timing my breaths with my strides or getting one more good rep on that lift. And then another. And then another.

Focusing that much on what I’m doing forces everything else out. There is no room for the chronic over-analysis. No room for the residual sting, for wondering what I possibly could have done wrong, for driving myself absolutely out of my mind insane because I can’t get my subconscious to just SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.

Is coping like this healthy? Maybe. Maybe not. This, however, is what works for me. Lately work’s been crazy busy and kind of stressful which, on top of some other stuff that’s been on my mind, has pushed me really damn hard. It was a REALLY rough day at work today, and all I could do was count down until the instant I was free so I could come home and change and immediately rock the shit out of six miles.

In those 52-ish minutes, it all went away. It was kind of chilly, and it was windy as hell (head-wind in all four directions type windy), but I pushed through it. Nothing but keeping my legs moving one in front of the other existed for nearly an hour. I haven’t thought about work since. Actually, the majority of what I’ve been thinking about is how much further along I am this time around with the training.

See? It works.

In the Middle of the Night

Posted on by
2

It’s frustrating to not be able to sleep. It’s even more frustrating to be absolutely and completely exhausted from fighting away the wicked cold from hell who just won’t fucking quit and still be unable to sleep.

Insomnia is a motherfucker.

There’s something about the dark that can be comforting. It’s quiet, it’s enveloping, all-encasing. The highway just outside the window doesn’t scream like it does with the windows open, but instead is a soothing hum not unlike the white noise machines so many people seem incapable of living without. Darkness feels like it holds all of your secrets, never letting anyone else get a glimpse into that time when you are at your most vulnerable.

When it’s dark, when I’m sleeping, my defenses are down. I’m not hiding anything, I’m not intentionally keeping anyone out. I am perfectly relaxed.

When it’s dark and I can’t sleep, that’s when darkness turns.

That’s when all those secrets start coming back at me. That’s when darkness stops being friendly.

It’s when the memories I fight away every single day seem to become stronger, where I can be reminded of the things that were done, the things I failed at, the things that hurt me. Darkness mocks you when you’re unprepared for it.

Waking up in the middle of the night has become so commonplace it’s no different than any waking hour. Being unable to fall asleep is torture.

Laying there, wishing past hope that there will be some sort of reprieve from the torment one’s subconscious can bring, yet it’s never enough. At that point, sleep will become the chains that push you deeper into dreams that feel like reality, where you’ll find fears and doubts come to life.

Failure is so much worse in the dark. Second-guessing past choices. Did I try hard enough? Did I say the right thing? Should I never have said anything at all? Am I doing enough?

These are the dark nights where years of personal growth come crashing down around me, where the demons I thought I exorcised rear their ugly heads, where I have to consciously look them in the eye and tell them “You have not defeated me. You will not defeat me.” In the dark is when they try harder.

It’s so easy to realize just how alone you are in the dark. There is no movement besides your own constant fidgeting, trying to find that one position that will allow you to breathe and hopefully find solace. Tossing, turning, sheets and blankets ending up twisted around your legs making the weight of those memories feel like they’ve gained the ability to physically hold you down.

A straight-jacket holding you in place.

These are those dark nights that all you can do is wait for morning. A new day, another chance to push everything away and start again.

Dawn is so close. Dawn is so far away.

Just Breathe

Posted on by
1

One of the things I know well about myself is that I am a total whiny cry-baby when I am sick.

And I am sick. A-fucking-gain. What the hell, immune system? Actually, a coworker today asked if I’d legitimately gotten rid of this nonsense from a month or so ago. Maybe I didn’t. I just know I don’t like it. Not even a little bit.

When I’m sick, I can take care of myself. I will drag my sniffly self to the store to get more tissues (dear lord, the ones with lotion are saving my poor little nose right now…ouch), I’ll force liquid medicine down my throat if I have to, I’ll stay home from work and sleep on the couch and get fluids in my system and all that stuff. I know when I have a fever and when it is breaking/how to break it.

But bloody hell, it’s been a rough day. Being sick makes me want to cry at EVERYTHING. I remembered that as I choked back tears walking out of a meeting today, when the only thing that bugged me was that I didn’t get an answer I wanted right then. Stupid shit, I know this.

At this point I just want someone to let me curl up next to them and have them play with my hair even though my head kind of hurts and rub my back and bring me soup and not really care if I fall asleep leaning on them and not mock me if I snore because I would since I can’t breathe through my nose.

Guess who’s too damned stubborn to call anyone to have them do that? This girl.

I just want a hug. And to be able to breathe through my nose. But mostly a hug.

Now Step Up, Step Up. Let’s Do This

Posted on by
1

Last night I ran four miles. This in and of itself isn’t anything special.

I ran on a treadmill. I HATE treadmills. I always have. During training for my last half, I did spend quite a bit of time on one because it was August in St Louis, and that’s just abysmal humidity to run in. When you break into a sweat walking to your car because it’s so muggy outside, you know running in that heat is going to be horrendous. So I did the indoor running thing. About two-thirds of the way through training, 4-5 weeks before the race, my left calf decided to rebel HARD after every step on the treadmill. It was as though my calf was flexing but not ever releasing. Guys, that HURTS. Every step that hurts. I swore off treadmills for the rest of my training.

This time around instead of being hot, well, it’s February so it’s cold (obviously). Also not desirable running weather. Not to mention all the New Year’s resolutioners who are still sticking around (which, yes, good for them) but seriously, it’s super crowded in the gym every day, which is annoying. Nonetheless, I went knowing that there was a distinct chance my leg could act up again. Luckily, it didn’t.

Maybe I should count it as a good thing that there were so many people there, too. I find myself pushing that much harder if there are people around. I’m not going to let them see me stop.

And I didn’t. Last year my first four mile run was totally weak. There were stopping points and times I thought I was for sure going to die. This time? Nope. Four full miles, non-stop, at an elevated incline. There is something about that kind of sweat, that kind of physical exertion that’s invigorating. When I thought I might need to pause? This song came on.

It’s always a war. A war of wills between two sides of myself. Between the desire to stop and the knowledge that it’s going to feel fucking fantastic if I keep going. It always feels fucking fantastic when I can get through something like that. Every time.

Last night’s run did something else too. It reminded me that this thing I’m doing here is a lifestyle change, not just some passing hobby, that this is something I have always loved to do. It made me realize just how much I’ve fallen in the past few months.

After the plague hit around New Year’s, I swore that I’d get back into the swing of things hard core. I didn’t. Sure, I worked out on a regular basis, but I ran a grand total of four miles in the entire month. One run in January. Pathetic. I spent more time skipping my workouts for things like hockey games and drinks with friends and my own sheer laziness. Yes, sometimes it’s a good thing to give into those things, but not now. Not with my race 66 days away. I plan on cutting ten minutes off my whole time, and that’s going to require a refocus, a rededication of myself to this training.

Going back in my mind over what happened in January, I’ve also come to realize that my own diet habits are, well, shitty right now. I know how to cook, I am good at it, and yet I still find excuses to not do so. I know for a fact I’m not getting enough protein in my diet, and my vegetable intake leaves something to be desired. The thing about running on a treadmill is that it will tell you a ballpark number of how many calories you’ve burned. Four miles, 550 calories. Sunday I start the progression of increasing my mileage. That means the calories I’ll be burning will increase, I’ll logically be hungrier, and then the choice falls to me to make sure the fuel I ingest is good for me, rather than drowning myself in an oversized bag of Pretzel M&Ms.

Last night motivated me in so many ways.

I’m fixing the way I eat. Starting yesterday. Making a point to eat SOMETHING for breakfast, incorporating more lean proteins into dinners. Cooking instead of going out, and then taking lunch to work. Choosing snacks like Wheat Thins or yogurt with granola. Eating more fruits and vegetables. I am going to be better this time around because I know just how good I FEEL, not to mention how good I can look, when I eat better.

Last night also reminded me just how much more I have to give, just how much more I could push to improve myself. I’m clearly way ahead of where I started last time, and I know just how much I improved over the course of those twelve weeks, so I have high hopes. I started tonight with increasing weights on three of my lifts. I can barely walk, can hardly lift my arms up to even shoulder level. I hurt all over so badly, and yet this pain is ADDICTING.

Sixty-six days until the half marathon. One hundred twenty days until the Ragnar. Half marathons in October and November.

Let’s do this.

Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens

Posted on by
2

So here’s what’s fun. I went back to the first time I posted something like this and realized that the list I’ve been compiling in my head today is nearly identical to the one I wrote three and a half years ago.

Some things don’t ever change. However, I’m sure I can expand on some of them. This time I’m skipping the rhyming part.

More of my favorite things:

  • Pedicures and flip flops
  • Pretzel M&Ms
  • Seamless harmonies woven into increasingly brilliant pieces of music
  • Email chains with some of the best friends I’ve got
  • My favorite koozie and the amazing friend who gave it to me
  • Rolling the windows down, turning the music up, and driving far too fast
  • Skyping with some of my favorite people
  • Songs that make me dance every time I hear them
  • The Charlie Brown Christmas tree I was given this past year
  • The anticipation that comes from knowing my next half marathon is just over two months away
  • #11in11
  • Having a coworker walk in this morning and immediately hand me a bottle of the new Bud Light Platinum just because he “knew I’d like to try it.”
  • David Beckham
  • Smooth legs sliding into cool sheets
  • My friend Alison’s three year old
  • Bright colors
  • Shorts and t-shirts on a run in January
  • Being able to tell the days are getting longer
  • When the curls actually stay in my hair
  • Hot tubs
  • My sisters
  • That unexpected hug from a friend that lets you really know they care
These are a few of my favorite things.

I Walk Alone

Posted on by
1

“Hello? Hi, yes, I’d like to place an order to upgrade my Deluxe Emotional Walls package I got from you guys about 8 years ago. ….. Yes, I know I upgraded just under two years ago. ….. What’s that? No, no. Nothing in particular happened, just call it a….feeling. A gut instinct, if you will, that I’m going to need it. ….. Yes, I’m aware they’re already built up pretty well. ….. Please don’t lecture me about “needing to let someone else in.” I’ve been trying that. ….. Yes I have! For MONTHS now! Can I just order please?

“Ok, I’m going to need to increase the height of the walls. Some of these arrows are making their way in, and they fucking STING when they actually pierce something. I know I’ve currently got bazookas at every 90 degrees, but I’ll need to increase that to every fifteen. ….. Yes, I said fifteen. ….. What? ….. Yes, I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing. How are you possibly a salesman for your company? Are you TRYING to get me to not get these products? ANYWAY, I’m also going to need to increase my guard posts. I’ll need at least 20 guys at the tops of these walls ready to launch grenades out when necessary and at all times of the day, ESPECIALLY if I’ve been drinking. Oh, also, could you please convince these guys that when I do venture out of my walls, they need to NOT threaten to throw the grenades INSIDE the walls? ….. Yes, that happened recently.

“As for the inside, I’m going to need a definite upgrade on the Containing Weaknesses package. Over the past couple weeks, insecurity and self-consciousness both got out MULTIPLE times. ….. How far out? Oh man, out to where someone SAW them. Brushing them off as “being girly” only works so many times.

“While I’m at it, could I get the largest size you have of That-Fucking-Stings Away? You know, just in case.

“No, no I think that’s it for now. I hope. ….. Hmm? ….. Yes, I hope I can utilize your Tear Down Assistance soon, too.

“I really, really do. ….. No, that’s all. Thank you for your help.”



*sigh*

Ooohhhh Sometimes….I Get A Good Feeling

Posted on by
3

The past couple weeks have been something of a stupidly long and sometimes exhausting and pretty much ridiculous emotional roller coaster for me. Things seemed to hit the apex this weekend, and good lord I hope things calm down.

Let’s just go through my emotions in order from Friday night to today, shall we?

Content

Self-conscious

Worried that I’d put myself out there too far, that I was going to end up hurt

Sad

Hungover (Maybe not technically a feeling per se, but I sure as hell felt it)

Amused

Happy

Amorous (This is what dancing does to me)

Really, really fucking pissed

Even more furious than that

Resigned

Exhausted

Hungover again (it was one of those weekends)

Irritated

Bemused

Irritated again

Annoyed

Sick to my stomach worried

Determined

Terrified

Motivated

Nervous

Stressed

Proud

That’s a long ass fucking list, and I can guarantee that I missed some in there. Those were the highlights. And the lowlights. Those were the ones that damn near made me lose my shit on a couple coworkers for various reasons, the ones that worried my friend Miranda to the point where she stayed on Twitter with me for nearly four straight hours. They were what made it impossible to sleep, what made me cry, what made me frustrated with myself for my own damn (impossible to stop) reactions.

I know I’ve written about it before, but I have a lot of emotions at all times. I am an over-analyzer, and that tends to make those bad emotions worse, due to things like my worst-case scenario brain and second-guessing myself and wondering whether they changed their mind (really, really hoping not on that last one).

Emotions can bring me to my knees, wracked in sobs.

They can bring me to the point where I am shaking with anger, clenching my fists and my jaw to prevent myself from lashing out at someone who doesn’t (well, sometimes they do) deserve it.

They can make me strut down a hall with the confidence that not a damn thing in this world could touch my happiness at that point.

Today that’s the type of emotion I felt. That pride (and the heels I am wearing) have me walking tall.

Today I finally got through a huge presentation that went out to nearly fifty of our team’s collaborators. I organized it. I got this pulled together. I worked my ass off on getting a PowerPoint formatted, I made sure every ‘I’ was dotted and ‘T’ was crossed. I collaborated with members of my team to get this put together, and made difficult decisions and got this thing to go off without a hitch. Today I stood in front of that group that included my boss’s boss’s boss, and I felt fucking proud of myself. I am by far the youngest person on my team, and today? Today I made my name known.

Today is also the one year anniversary of the launching of Aerys (which was at the time called G9 Sports). I have poured my soul and my tears and my passion and my frustrations and many a sleepless night into building a site I could be proud of. I have worked really hard to hone my writing skills, to find and create content that wasn’t just a carbon copy of every other Blues site out there. I have learned more about the sport of hockey in the last year than I could ever have imagined. I have made more friends than I can count, built working relationships and personal relationships, and I have found a niche. I nearly had a nervous breakdown with just how much I had taken on at one point, and I learned that sometimes, you have to really know your limits. Mine came when the prospect of running a fourth site just was too much.

Not that long ago at all, I felt a bit lost. Having friends in St Louis had all but ceased to exist, my job was neither fulfilling nor challenging which kept me far from motivated to want to stay, and I felt as though I was floating in a constant state of limbo.

And then it all changed.

Right now I am proud of the life I have built. I am proud of the trials I’ve overcome, the challenges I’ve faced, the funks and depressions and miserable times I have clawed and fought and climbed my way out of. I’m proud to be in a job where my opinion is valued, where I am considered an integral part of the team, where I can let my innate skill-set take me further into my CAREER. I am proud of the hobbies I’ve undertaken, of the things I’ve been able to experience and accomplish through my writing, of the races I’ve been able to complete, of the level of physical fitness I’ve been able to achieve. I am proud to have built solid friendships with one of the most amazing groups of people I know, of just how close we’ve all gotten over the last little while, and of the potential of more to come.

The best really is yet to come.

This is a good feeling.

It’s All About the He-Said, She-Said Bullshit

Posted on by
3

If you’ve been paying attention, you will have noticed that there are quite a few of the “Shit [so-and-so] says” youtube videos around. When memes like this get started, I tend to find them boring and/or too ridiculous to pay attention to.

This one, though, has been cracking me up. Here are two that made me roll. Hysterical.

That last one? It’s funny because it’s true.