Today’s Happy Note: Willow Smith and her song “Whip My Hair”. She uses her braids to fling paint. Enough said.
I got in my nine miles this morning! And they were really, really sucky. It was just one of those runs that I needed to push through, and I did. I did three miles at tempo pace in the first half. I was supposed to do three fast 800s in the second half but there was no way that was going to happen. Part of the problem was that I was inappropriately dressed. I have running clothes for 55 degrees and higher and 40 degrees and lower. I can never seem to dress appropriately for that 15 degree gap in between. Ugh. I really should invest in some long sleeve tech tees.
Thank you everyone for your sweet comments yesterday! Every single one of them felt like a little gift in my inbox. I talked through a lot of it with L today, which was nice. I’ll share those thoughts at the end of the post.
First, in honor of yesterday’s National Love Your Body Day, I present you with 16 reasons why I love my body. [FYI: there are many more reasons why I don’t love my body; I’m not perfect. But I think that enumerating things my body does for me is not a futile exercise. It does remind me of the good.]
- It’s super bendy! I am seriously the most flexible adult ever. I can do the splits and get into pretty much any yoga position. I like this.
- My eyes are deep and dark and mysterious and nice. I like how they fit under my eyebrows.
- I have really strong arms and can lift all kinds of things.
- My heart and lungs pulled me through my pulmonary emboli hospitalization this summer. For that, I am eternally grateful to my body.
- I have nice hips for dancing.
- The skin on my hands is soft; I have good hand-holding hands. USB tells me this.
- My spine and torso are very graceful — dancerly, I like to think
- In fact, I think I’m kind of good at dancing. I would love to be in a dance recital some day. Is that weird?
- My feet take a beating through running, but they forgive me. Thank you, feet. You work damn hard.
- I have great hair.
- My body has let me climb mountains in Mexico, hike through cloud forests in Costa Rica, and run up the stairs of the Eiffel Tower.
- I scar really easily and have some really unique, beautiful scars. My favorite is on my right kneecap. I like how scars tell important stories.
- My hands! Oh, how much hands do for us. I mean, come on, opposable thumbs? How awesome can our bodies be?!?!
- My senses. I have wonderful eyesight and hearing. My senses let me interact with the world and respond in my own way, through sensory writing. My senses help me create poems and prose and essays.
- Ribs. I like how they form a cage around my middle, protecting me. My body has ways of protecting and defending itself. That’s beautiful.
- We cannot forget my legs, obviously. They have carried me through three half-marathons, two ultramarathons, countless long runs, and hopefully, a marathon (soon)! They are strong and forceful. Sometimes they just keep going even when I don’t tell them to — when my mind is too exhausted to function, my legs have a way of working, regardless.
I have much to be grateful for! What are you grateful for, at this very moment, in terms fo your body and its amazing capabilities?
I think I’ll keep my therapy thoughts brief today (haha, am I even capable of that?). I don’t want to get into certain things. We spent a while talking about my anxiety surrounding the timeliness of our session and then we talked about how I characterize myself as “lazy” and then about how I operate, socially (how I make friends, how there have been some very lonely periods in my life). I told her about my first day at my second high school. I was a junior. It was August, 2005. I cried, recounting it to her. It broke my heart, looking back. But I was also crying happy tears about it — I was stubborn (I had this really geeky yellow lunchbox that I refused to give up; I spent the whole lunch hour walking around the school by myself on that first day, desperately wanting a friend) and held tight to my beliefs and identity. If that meant being alone, so be it. I think that in some ways I am better at being alone now — I manage it; it isn’t always a lonely alone. I will always be a person who needs her alone. I need to be by myself, often for long stretches of time. I can’t fathom spending time with friends every single day. One of the things I like best about USB is that he doesn’t fear being alone — he relishes it. He uses that time to unwind and rewire; it also means that we are comfortable not spending every single second together. I think that’s healthy.
I used most of the second half of the session to talk about my weight/body/health problems. For a pretty straightforward summary, see yesterday’s post.
I liked that L was both tremendously compassionate and objective about it all. I actually just got an appointment with an endocrinologist today. We agreed that I will try that — and I will make a serious effort to try any diet variations or medications she recommends or have tests done — and move forward from there. As I was outlining my health problems to L, she said something like “having a chronic illness is hard; it’s not fun.” I looked up at her, started crying harder, and told her “I might be able to handle one, but having two is destroying me” — the clotting issue and the endocrine issue. Her face softened and she just said, “I wish so much that I could make it go away.” It was comforting. She was comforting.
And that is the honest truth — I don’t know how much longer I can handle having both of these things. It’s exhausting. I don’t know what takes precedence over the other. I am tired of scheduling follow up appointments and having my weekly blood draws and having heart echoes and breathing tests and living in terror that I’m clotting again. Seven doctors is more than any healthy 20 year old should have to face. It was actually kind of nice to just have that moment of complete breakdown and vulnerability with L this afternoon: I basically told her “I can’t do it.” And she acknowledged that. That was all I really needed out of today, I think.
I have to keep living one day at a time. The next few months will be full of visits to specialists and blood tests and endless round of medication trial and error. But in some sense, I’m already used to that. I feel like I will feel less burdened when I at least know that we are doing things to try and figure it all out. I like journeys. This feels like a journey to me. I’m trying to stay positive.
Goodnight friends! Happy Friday to you all!