Month: July 2018

Daily Post 095: New Dojo, New Shoes

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I’ve been doing better. Writing to mom helped.

I survived the rest of the 3rd. I went to training. I don’t feel I did as well as I could have, but with feeling as emotionally heavy as I did, I think I did alright. I didn’t call out of training so that alone means it’s a win, right? Going was better than not going at all.

My trainer said several times during that session that I was doing well. He isn’t one to compliment unless it’s genuine. He was having me do a lot of new stuff, including new box jump work which was actually pretty fun.

I kept all of my promises to mom that day. I showered. I had at least one meal. And I didn’t stay in bed all day. Each day I do those three things is… I don’t know if “good” is the right word, but they’re… something. I didn’t let her down. I didn’t let myself down. It was a shitty, heavy, hard day, but I did those three things so no matter what, I did alright.

The fourth wasn’t a bad day. I went to work. I got to see my patients. I got to explain that even though it was the fourth I was doing better than Monday. I told one of them about my letter to mom where I got to say good morning to her. She said she had been praying for me and though I’m not Christian, her words and kindness mean a lot to me.

I actually looked into more dojos in the area on Tuesday. I’ve been feeling… weird after work. I know weird isn’t really the word I want to use but I also don’t know how to explain the sensations. There doesn’t seem to be a word that really works or encompasses everything that I feel.

It’s a mix of angst and unsettledness. I want to DO something but I don’t know what to do. I feel frustrated because there’s this feeling of not being able to do anything which makes me feel trapped or confined within my skin. I don’t want to cross stitch. I don’t want to game. I don’t want to be inside curled up in bed though that’s what I usually end up doing.

I also don’t want to be very far away from Ox when I’m home. Being near him is comforting and helps the sandpapery, confined feelings.

I’ve really wanted to spar recently. In my head, that’s what feels like would help with whatever it is that I’m feeling. I want to fight and push against someone else. I want to struggle and expel all of this energy even though I know I’m already tired from work. I’m tired but not tired enough I guess.

I’ve found a dojo where they offer taekwondo, karate, jiujitsu, krav maga, MMA, kickboxing, and on certain Saturdays, yoga.

It seems like what I’m looking for. Their classes are late enough for me to get to even on the worst days I work. I’m extremely interested in attending a krav maga class.

I tried calling on Tuesday but I never got a call back. I figured I wouldn’t with it being so close to the holiday. Lincoln does a firework show on the third anyway. I didn’t get a call back on the fourth, which I expected as well.

That left me to deal with the sandpapery feelings with no release again on the fourth. I didn’t want to be outside because everyone was shooting off fireworks but I didn’t want to sit inside doing nothing either. So frustrating.

I tried working on stuff around the house but that didn’t help. I eventually gave up and crawled into bed next to Ox as he gamed and fell asleep.

I need a project. Something I’m in control of. Something that I can make progress on. Working on stuff is relaxing to me. Being constructive. Accomplishing things… It makes me feel good about myself.

I don’t think I really have anything like that at the moment which might be why I feel so tangled right now.

Anyway, I went to training today and I did much better than the last two times. I wasn’t overly sore like I was last Thursday and I wasn’t as emotionally raw as I was on Tuesday. I felt ready for today.

I did well. I’m doing more reps at a higher weight than when I started. Since Thursdays are my “test” days, I also weighed in. I’m down .3 in fat and up .3 in muscle.

I’ve been under 2000 calories for the past week. I can’t lie, I was disappointed in my numbers. I thought there would be more of a change than that. It bothered me to the point that I actually talked to my trainer about it before I left.

He said sometimes it takes the body a little bit to catch up with changes. He was pleased that my numbers are still moving in the right direction. He’s pleased with my calorie intake and the overall nutrition that I’m getting.

Me: So is this one of those moments where I should stay the course and not get discouraged?

He said yes, so that’s where I’m at with that. So far my Evil Voice hasn’t said much though I can feel it lurking at the edges of my mind, waiting for a chance to exploit a weakness like my tiredness or grief.

I drove home and plucked away at chores for a while. I unloaded, loaded, and ran the dishwasher. I put the clean clothes away while doing another two loads; one for Ox and another of my own stuff. I cleaned and organized some of the kitchen drawers since we finally got the insides of them painted with the polyurethane this past weekend.

I tried calling the dojo again to see about their classes and got a new message saying that they would be closed for the holiday week and would resume classes on Monday, the 9th.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

All I want to do is beat people up. Is that so much to ask of? ;-;

Ok. All joking aside. I don’t want to “beat people up”. I want to push myself. I want to learn new things. I want that level of peace again. I don’t know what it is about combat that does it for me. Maybe it’s because it tears down everything meanless and leaves you bear to yourself. You can’t hide when you’re on the mat. You can’t be lost in thought. You have to be fully present and in tune with yourself. You have to calculate your limits. You have to focus on your breathing. You have to be aware of when and how you shift your weight. You have to be aware of not only your force but the force and energy from your opponent.

I miss it. I want it back. And I guess I can’t have it until Monday.

That’s ok though. While I was on the phone bitching to Jon about how not fair it was, because yes, it’s totally unfair of the Universe to finally reveal what may very well become my new dojo to me, only to have me wait a week before actually being able to go… my new Vibrams where delivered.

Fine, Universe. If I can’t spar to the point of exhaustion and get arm-barred by black belts then I’ll go for a run instead.

┬─┬ノ( º _ ºノ)

It was actually probably my best run so far. I ran at a faster pace for all of my run intervals and recovered completely during my rest intervals. I made it to the end of my run without feeling dead or without really any type of “I pushed too hard” type of pain. The new shoes felt a little odd at first, but I think they just need a few runs to get broken in. I like them better than the ones I currently have which is good since I plan to run in the new ones on the 14th.

After running I rowed for a bit to get some arm and back work in. This is after already doing personal training. Don’t mind me while I feel like a mild badass at the moment. I stretched pretty well afterward since that may be one of the reasons I was so sore last Tuesday.

Ox and I met in town for dinner. While I was waiting for him to get off work I canceled the YMCA membership. I’ll still be able to work with my trainer since that’s a different fee that’s already been paid, but now I can feel less lame for spending money on something I wasn’t really using.

We’re currently back home winding down for the evening. I might try to wake up early to run again. 2 am is pretty early though… so I don’t know. We’ll see how rested I feel. If I wake up before my alarm goes off like I have been doing lately, then maybe.

I guess that’s about it.

I still need to get in touch with myself, but I think reaching out to mom was a good step in that direction.

I want to get the bike rack this weekend along with my plane ticket to visit my brothers. I want to get a hotel room for the night before my race so I don’t have to drive two hours the day of to get there only to turn around and drive two hours back. I want to look into the dojo, too, because I really, truly believe I need something like that back in my life.

It feels like I’ve been crying a lot recently but maybe I needed that, too. I feel better for it. Cleaner. Clearer. I feel closer to Ox for the conversations we’ve had and the times he’s held me.

I’m glad tomorrow is Friday and that I have another two days off in a row after it. I’m glad that the days at work have been going smoothly for the most part. Each day still has its own thing which “doesn’t go right” but overall they have been alright days.

We’ll see how tomorrow goes. For now, I think I’m actually going to go cross stitch because I do have a new pattern I want to work on, but I can’t start it until I finish my current one. Lame. >.<;

Letters to Mom 019: Good Morning

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Hey mom,

I don’t have a lot of time and I’m sorry for that. I went back to sleep after Ox left for work and have stayed in bed for longer than I should have if I wanted to have more time to write.

I talked to Jon for a little bit just now. I know it would make you happy to know we’re getting along better than we ever did while you were alive. I know it would make you feel like you had done something right to know that we love each other as much as we do and that we support each other as much as we are. We’re there for each other and I think, in the end, that’s all you ever wanted for us to learn.

The past few days have been hard. I’ve been missing you a lot and I don’t know why. I know it’s almost the fourth and so that means it will be two years and three months since you died. I know that a lot of people think it’s unhealthy to count that way and to be so aware of the numbers like that. But when I have to write the date, everyday, on everything I open at work, when I write the date at the top of my to-do list everyday, when I’m so hyper-aware of what date it actually is in relation to when you died… it’s hard to not be conscious of it; to not know. At the moment my brain processes the information in that way and I don’t know how to make it not do that, just like I don’t know how to not breathe or blink or how to make my heart stop beating on its own, firing off electrical impulses to move my blood through my body. I don’t know how to make my muscles not use energy.

I don’t know how to make my body not do all of these automatic functions, and knowing how many days it’s been since I last held your hand is one of those automatic functions now. Maybe that will change with time, but so far it hasn’t and it’s one of the things I live with; this constant knowing, constant counting, constant ticking further and further away from that day.

I miss you a lot. It hurts and I don’t know how to explain to anyone what it feels like. I know it’s pain. I know it’s in my chest. I know I can feel the edges of this wound. It feels circular. I know it doesn’t pierce all the way through to my back but I don’t know how far in it goes. It feels deep. It feels like it reaches into something past my self, into something that is no longer physical; a part of myself that can’t be seen or touched. I know it feels like it’s on the inside and that it’s under the surface of my skin; beneath the bones of my rib cage. It’s higher up in my chest, sort of below my collar bones. I know it feels like the edges are trying to close rather than growing bigger. I know it feels like spasms when I do feel the pain of missing you, like the muscles around this invisible, untouchable wound are twitching, contracting. It makes my shoulders hunch inward. It makes it hard to breathe. It makes silent tears run down my face and I have no control over them. I can’t hide them or stop them any more than I can stop anything else. They’re an automatic response to the pain just like the short shallow breathes I have to force myself to take to get through the aching twitching spasms in my chest where something used to be.

The pain makes everything feel heavy. The pain makes me feel injured because even though I can’t see it or show it to anyone, even though it seems like it’s not there, there is a wound and I am injured and when I hurt the most I wonder if I’ll ever heal at all.

Ox tried to hug me after one particular episode of Violet Evergarden and I pulled away because I knew his hug would be too much. It would hurt too much because I felt my wound more than ever and accepting the hug would acknowledge it; would acknowledge the pain that has no cure. It would admit that I’m lonely and that I miss you and that I hurt in ways that I try so hard to hide and work through on my own.

That hug would have meant it’s all real. Your death. My pain. The invisible wound that connects us… It’s all real and I can’t hide it.

I love you, mom. I never knew or understood how much until you died and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for all the times I was selfish and didn’t do the things you asked me to. For not taking care of the dishes or cleaning the litter boxes. I’m sorry for all the times you asked for my help and I didn’t only to turn around and ask something of you and for you to selflessly give your time and energy.

I know I wasn’t an awful child. I know that you’re proud of me and that you feel you raised me right. I feel like you did, too. I feel like I’m the person I am because you were, because you are, my mother. I’m grateful for having had as much time with you as I did.

The past few days have been hard and I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that with the kids being gone and me not working overtime as much as I was, I finally have the time and space to address the wound that I haven’t given much time to.

I think there’s still a lot I need to address in regards to your death. I don’t really agree with the stages of grief but I also don’t have anything else to express what I’m going through. I feel like, on the inside, there is more anger now than in the previous years. I know that I do feel regret now even though I try not to.

I regret that Ox will never be able to meet you. I regret that you’ll never be able to play Cards Against Humanity with him. I regret that you won’t be able to banter with him because his sense of humor totally fits our family. I regret that I am with someone I know you would be proud of and that he’s the one person you’ll never be able to meet face to face.

It sucks and I’m angry about it even though I don’t want to be angry. I fight and try so hard not to be and that most likely makes it all that much harder.

I’ve fought for so long, mom. Ever since you died. And now I don’t have to. I don’t have to fight to pay rent. I don’t have to fight to get to the gym. I don’t have to fight through the exhaustion of work.

I don’t know how to not fight. I don’t know how to not have things be a struggle and I guess that’s part of learning how to live this new life that I’ve moved to. I guess it makes it harder, feeling like I can’t call or ask for advice on how to do this.

How do I be a parent, mom? How do I be happy? How do I love someone after everything I’ve been through? How do I stop fighting and let people get close again?

Did I make life easier or harder for you when dad left? Did I give you purpose, a reason, to get out of bed on the mornings you didn’t want to? Did I make life feel heavy and like an overwhelming burden on the days that were hard? Did I help you after Mawmaw died? How did you get through those days? When did you cry? Did you every scream because it hurt so much to not have her anymore?

Did you ever feel like giving up?

Why can’t you be here to answer all of these questions? Why can’t you come back? Why did you have to leave? Why? Was it a choice? Did you know how everything would turn out? Is there some major thing in the distant future where it will all make sense and I’ll understand why and that the pain was worth it and things really are and were ok?

I wish I could hear you say those words one more time. I wish you could tell me “It’s ok,” just once more. I promise I would believe them. I promise I would cherish them.

Hate that I need to go for now. I hate that I have training at the gym at 10. I hope I do better than Thursday. I hope I don’t break down during my training and yell about how it sucks and it’s unfair and what’s the point and how no one understands because how can they? They weren’t, aren’t, your daughter. No one but me will know what it feels like to be me in the wake of your death. And in a way, I think I’m ok with that. It makes me feel privileged. It makes me feel honored.

I’m ok with being your only daughter. I’m ok because I’m YOUR daughter. Even if you had had another one she still wouldn’t have been me.

I don’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted to write when I started this.

I guess… I guess I just wanted to say good morning, mom, and that I love you and that I miss you and that I’m going to try to make today a day. I hope you’re doing ok. I hope that you don’t worry too much about me. I hope that I’m making smart choices and that even if I am giving you more gray hair that it makes you smile because at least it’s me doing it.

I love you. Forever and for always.