Tag Archives: life

Running from Reality: A Midlife Meander Through the Absurd

Let’s talk about expectations. When you’re knee-high to a grasshopper, do you envision yourself, decades later, as a 42-year-old survivor of both a stroke and the relentless existential dread that comes with being a modern human? Do you foresee a domestic landscape populated by a nine-year-old space expert (who knows more about black holes than I do about, well, anything), a six-year-old bottomless pit of a child (whose digestive system operates with the efficiency of a garbage disposal), a three-year-old dictator (who probably runs a tighter ship than most Fortune 500 CEOs), and a husband whose devotion to wrestling occasionally surpasses even his fondness for his long-suffering wife?

No? Me neither.

Life, as they say, has a way of rearranging the furniture. It presents you with a neatly packed suitcase of dreams and aspirations, then promptly throws it off a speeding train. You’re left standing on the platform, blinking in confusion, surrounded by scattered socks and a crumpled map of the world as you thought it would be.

And so, one finds oneself at an… interesting juncture. Not ungrateful, mind you. Gratitude is a very important thing and I practice it daily. But also not… entirely thrilled. Frankly, some days, the sheer weight of it all—the demands, the responsibilities, the unrelenting cacophony of tiny voices—can feel like trying to swallow a particularly dense and thorny cactus.

This, dear reader, is where the running comes in.

Because when life serves up a generous helping of the unexpected, you have two choices: you either roll over and play dead, or you lace up your sneakers and attempt to outrun the encroaching sense of… something. What that something is, I’m still trying to figure out. Midlife crisis? Existential angst? The lingering effects of neurological trauma? Probably a delightful cocktail of all three, shaken, not stirred.

Now, about that cactus. You could try to stomach it whole and learn to appreciate its unique flavor profile (a flavor that, I suspect, closely resembles despair). Or, you could opt for a slightly more palatable solution. Which is, in my case, a small, round, Lexapro-shaped lifesaver. Remember that thorny cactus? Well, this little pill helps to smooth down the spikes. Not a cure, mind you. More of a… temporary truce.

The reality, as I’m slowly coming to accept, is that some days the chatter in my head resembles a flock of startled parrots engaged in a heated debate about the merits of various brands of birdseed. Other days, it’s more like a swarm of angry bees, buzzing furiously around a nest of anxieties. Saturdays, in particular, can be perilous. With the structure of the workweek stripped away, and the schedule blissfully (or terrifyingly) sparse, there’s simply too much time to think. Too much time to ruminate. Too much time to engage in the delightful pastime of self-loathing.

The medication has quieted the noise, and the relief is palpable. But it’s also… unsettling. I’m calmer. Less anxious. Something I haven’t felt in years. It feels a little like wearing someone else’s skin.

Here’s the kicker: I’m still trying to figure out who “I” am now. The stroke, the medication, the relentless march of time—they’ve all conspired to create a somewhat… unfamiliar version of myself. I don’t quite recognize myself. I haven’t been myself in about three years now, and I’m still trying to figure out where the trail leads. Am I back to myself? Am I a new version? Am I just out here, aimlessly running?

But this, surprisingly, is a happy post. Because in the midst of all this uncertainty, there’s a glimmer of something resembling hope. A sense of relief. The freedom to breathe, even if the air feels a little… different.

And, dear reader, you’re getting to witness it all unfold. As I stumble and fumble my way through this new normal, as I tentatively piece together the fragments of my former self, I’m sharing it all with you. You’re getting the real-time, uncensored, occasionally-slightly-medicated revelation of me. Aren’t you just thrilled? I know I am. Mostly. Well, sometimes. Okay, maybe only on Tuesdays. But still… progress!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a three-year-old dictator to appease. And a five-mile run to “escape” into. Wish me luck. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

Running from my Birthday

Ah, birthdays. Those peculiar annual rituals where we’re expected to celebrate the inexorable march towards our own mortality with cake and forced merriment. For most, it’s a day of joyous reflection and an excuse to indulge in socially acceptable gluttony. For me, it’s become a rather more complicated affair, thanks to a mischievous little cerebrovascular event that decided to gatecrash my party just as I was about to hit the big 3-9.

Picture, if you will, a scene of impending festivity. Balloons at the ready, candles poised for their fiery demise, and a cake so laden with sugar it could send a hummingbird into diabetic shock. But instead of blowing out candles, I found myself blowing bubbles in a hospital bed, my brain having decided to take an impromptu vacation without so much as a postcard.

The next few days passed in a haze of confusion and medical jargon, as if I’d suddenly been dropped into an episode of ER, but with significantly less George Clooney and a lot more bewildered mumbling. By the time I resurfaced, I felt compelled to inform my long-suffering husband that “something was definitely wrong.” I imagine his response was along the lines of, “You don’t say, dear. I thought lying comatose in a hospital was your new hobby.”

Now, birthdays and I have a relationship that’s about as warm and fuzzy as a cactus in a snowstorm. The stroke merely added an extra layer of complexity to our already strained association. It’s as if my birthday has become a sort of morbid anniversary, a day when I’m supposed to simultaneously celebrate my continued existence and mourn the person I used to be. It’s like trying to have a party in a funhouse mirror maze – disorienting, slightly nauseating, and with an unsettling sense that you’re not quite who you thought you were.

I’m well aware that my attitude towards this annual milestone is about as cheerful as a wet weekend in Miami. But when you’ve spent over a year cataloging your deficits like some sort of neurological accountant, it’s hard to muster enthusiasm for party hats and noisemakers.

And let’s not forget the baby – my third little bundle of joy, who had the misfortune of being born just 6 weeks before his mother decided to audition for a medical drama. I missed out on all those precious newborn moments – the sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, the spit-up on every clean shirt. It’s enough to make a person weep, or at least wish for a time machine and a neurologist on speed dial.

So here I am, forever 39, stuck in a perpetual loop of birthday ambivalence. It’s a day that serves as a stark reminder of what was lost, what was gained, and the peculiar journey of rediscovering oneself post-stroke. But who knows? Perhaps one day I’ll embrace the occasion with the enthusiasm of a labrador at a tennis ball factory. Until then, I’ll be here, blowing out candles and silently thanking my stubborn brain for sticking around for another year of this bizarre adventure we call life.

March 4th, 2018

Today was a beautiful, windy, Kansas day. We started the day with coffee and a trip to Home Depot to pick out a new storm door. After lunch, we went for a walk up by the baseball field. We spend some time watching the game, and wandered around the neighborhood. It was an awesome afternoon, and the boys were so good.

About 5:30 though, everything changed. All the sudden Cub walked over to Chas and vomited everywhere! I ran him into the bathroom where it happened a few more time, then threw him in the bath. While I was helping Cub, Chas yelled for the thermometer, and come to find out, Oz had. 101 fever! What the heck!

A wonderful day quickly turned into a very long night.

31 things I have learned in my 31 years

Just before my 31st birthday, with 2 of my favorite girls.

I turned 31 this week, much to my dismay. On some of my past birthdays, I’ve look at myself and say, “Damn, you look pretty good for (insert age here).” Not this year. California and the stress that has come with it has aged me. But I don’t think that is all negative. The time I have had for self reflection, both positive and negative, have made me a more complete person. Whether that has made me a better or worse person, I will let you decide, but onto the point of this post. I have learned so much in my time, and I thought I would share some of the most important points with you.

1. Always live life by the Golden Rule. I don’t think much explanation is needed here.

2. Ask for forgiveness when you don’t have time to ask for permission.

3. Scrap number 2, because you are going to worry yourself sick about getting in trouble. Just ask for permission instead.

4. Cherish the small moments. For me, even just my fiance kissing me on the forehead can make all the difference in my day.

5. Never, EVER pass up an opportunity to pee. (I have to thank my dad for this one.)

6. Live life for yourself, because frankly, no one else cares. Your memories have to be for you.

7. Dessert, mostly cupcakes, is sometimes the answer.

8. A hot shower is ALWAYS the answer. Note: do not try to combine numbers 7 and 8. Icing is too precious.

9. Home is where your mom is.

10. The best way to start your day is with a funny YouTube video.

11. Always take a sweatshirt.

12. The good stuff (donuts, gummy bears, jelly beans, etc.) always makes your stomach hurt. Eat it anyway.

13. Every person you meet is meant to bring you something that you didn’t have before. There is a reason for it all.

14. Sometimes you just have to skip.

15. Galloping works too.

16. Snuggling is the best thing ever created. Pets, people, pillows, whatever.

17. When you need to be reminded that you are a sane human, just turn on the Real Housewives of Anywhere or the Bad Girls Club.

18. If you are with me, and I am unpleasant, feed me. Chances are it will get better

19. Going to Target and just walking around is an acceptable form of social interaction.

20. Can’t think of what to fix for Breakfast, Lunch, Snack or Dinner? The answer is always Breakfast food.

21. The best thing about music is that you can always find a song to support your mood.

22. Three words: EDDIE WOULD GO.

23. Like attracts like.

24. Your parents were always right.

25. It is much easier to get mad and scream in your car when other drivers on the road are stupid than accept their bad driving as “just something you have to deal with.”

26. There are very few priceless things in life that are physical objects.

27. Time heals all wounds. Scars may remain, but the pain will fade.

28. The best way to reset your mind is by doing something that makes you feel like a kid again.

29. The best feeling in the world is putting on a new pair of socks.

30. A morning without caffeine is not a great morning

31. Life will throw so many things at you. Take each one in stride, and enjoy the roller coaster ride that awaits you.

It all comes back to footwear

If you have been reading my blog lately, you know that I have a strange obsession with the show Cheers at the current moment. Well for a while I had jumped around, not necessarily watching episodes in order. Recently I started, I believe, in season 8, and yesterday, I finally made it to the series finale. Of course I cried, because heaven forbid I don’t cry at something these days. But I also learned an interesting lesson. If you recall the final episode, it was a 3 parter when Diane comes back, Sam contemplates leaving, and Woody gets everyone a job for the city. But at the very end of the episode, the gang is sitting around the bar talking about how much they all *cough* love *cough* each other.

At one point, they talk about what makes life complete. Carla says having kids, Frasier says life is a cosmic accident, and Cliff says footwear. Without comfortable footwear, no great accomplishment would have been made, that life is chaos without good footwear. At the end of the episode, they all say how glad they are that Sam has stayed, and that if he had left, someone would have some pretty big shoes to fill. Cliff then says, “See! It all comes back to footwear!”

My favorite running shoes, Nike Free v7.0 with side laces

 

Well Cliff is right in many aspects, in regards to my life anyway. Running for example, is a very trying task if you do not have the appropriate footwear. You will have knee, back and hip problems if your shoes are worn out or not activity appropriate. In marketing, you need to view the idea or promotion from the public’s point of view, or “walk in their shoes” to determine if something if going to work for your brand. A squeaky shoe, wet shoes, or broken shoes can ruin your day. People have shoe addictions, or their baby’s first shoes hanging over the rear view mirror in their car. A new pair of shoes can change the way you feel.

 

I went looking for some new shoes yesterday, as I have been having a few foot problems with my training schedule. With 44 miles scheduled this week, I don’t expect them to get much better, so I am trying to figure out the best solution so I am not in pain… (odd metaphor to my life right now, but I won’t go into that). So once again, my success, failure, and comfort come down to footwear.

Quite odd, but Cliff Clavin had a good point.

I went back to the office today after a few weeks back in Kansas. I miss my dogs. I miss my boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder why I left. I know it was absolutely the right decision for me. I would not be happy if I had stayed in my old position at Fort Hays State. I was miserable there. I was a babysitter. I wasn’t running. I was working like 80 hours a week. It was all around a very bad situation for me. I lost myself there, which is funny, because I thought I would have everything I needed!

I am down to less than a week until I leave for Florida, and I feel that this will be a step back on the right path for me. One of the best years of my life was when I ran the first marathon 3 years ago. Running had helped me get through so many things, and being away from my family is one of those things.

I will leave you with this today, as it is how I decide my next move in life:

“Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we’re curious…and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.”- Walt Disney