I have decided that over the next 119 days, for which we are on day 4, I am going to focus on some of the issues that arise while I train for the 1/2 Marathon on May 5th, 2013. I am really wanting to get to and past a few major issues. Some of these could be quite personal in nature, however, I have found writing has been a form of therapy in and of itself.
To be able to articulate in a rather unabashed manner how I am feeling at any one time without concern of whether I am making any sense at all; that for me allows an honesty and vulnerability that I at times have difficulty showing to the world. The page is not going judge me. And as I explore, reconcile and purge these emotional issues , spiritual issues, physical issues I hope to find my truth, my purpose and work toward my full potential. And this I see as giving back in some way that is yet to be revealed.
I have in the last few years accepted my sexual being, I have glimpsed the spiritual side that is the essence of who I am and I have been working on being healthy physically, emotionally and mentally. Now that I have dusted them off and brought them up to speed, time to pull it together.
As I stated yesterday, sometimes it is incredibly difficult to change thought patterns and behaviours and I am improving in this regard daily. In part I have to trace back to where the pattern began to understand its place in my life and how it served me at that time. This has happened on a rather frequent basis over the last few years. When I first began this process, it was messy. Over time though just opening the heart centre a little wider each day has brought remarkable results.
So why a 1/2 marathon? How could that possibly be therapy? Good question.
When I was young I used to love running. There was a freedom to it. I was not confined by the fears I knew intimately in my home life. It was just me doing something I loved. When I reclaimed this side of self and began to run again I felt as though I was reborn. The spirit still resided within me and still loved the sensation this movement brought to me.
I had my first drink at about the age of ten. My parents had parties all the time on weekends and my sisters and I were enlisted to clean up and play host and entertain. Sipping a partially finished drink that had long been forgotten was easy. I was, by all accounts, the proverbial wallflower. I didn’t want to be seen or heard. This type of attention was often met with violence in my home, so at a young age I accepted that to just be a shadow was perhaps that best role to take. And I did. The alcohol loosened me up a bit. My parent’s friends found me funny and I found it easier to socialize as well.
The first time I really got drunk I was about 11 years old. My dad sat on the bed telling me to ‘go with the spins’ so that I wouldn’t get sick. It worked. I passed out. I was a bit more careful after that slipping a drink on the side. I had found my ounce of courage and my scape goat all in one shot. If I said or did things that were inappropriate but that rang true I could blame the bottle. I have heard it said the only ones that tell the truth are children and drunks. Talk about a coupe. I was child and a drunk.
That was a behaviour pattern that I laid down early and it is one I am breaking out of. Not quite there, but almost.
I am sure you won’t be surprised to hear that for a time drinking was an issue for me. But I quit for many years and now I just drink socially. I am very mindful of what it can do and so part of this training is that I will not be drinking at all over the next four months. I need to deal with all of these things with a clear head.
There are times though on a Saturday night when I am on my own and those memories come out to haunt me, well let’s just say over the last few years there have been times when I have indulged more than I should have. And oddly there was an awareness as I was partaking in this as well. What I realize is that this is simply a behaviour pattern I developed at a young age to help me cope. As flawed as it was, as potentially dangerous as it was, it was an out.
When I stopped drinking for all those years, I began to eat….a lot. Same behaviour pattern…different effect.
In all cases though I was a young girl wanting to be seen, wanting to heard and wanting to be loved. I looked for it, everywhere. I didn’t know then that it starts with me and how I see myself. How could I?
This is the behaviour pattern I am working on correcting right now. And when I am out, as I was last night in torrential rains, running….there is a freedom that beckons with step taken. I see the person that I am and so I now begin the process of acceptance for all that I have done. I will embrace the frightened child and let her know she is loved then release her to run with me always.
Enjoy your day everyone.