Oh, Sigh

Because I didn't know what to think about the guy I met, C-Dawg (bless her heart) suggested that I invite him out with us this weekend for a drink.

I didn't want to, but wouldn't you know it, after said drink it didn't seem like such a bad idea so I texted him and he came out to meet us.

And you guys? I wish I could find it as funny as C-Dawg does, but right now I'm still in the mystified what the bleep just happened stage.

So C-Dawg and I were sitting there chatting waiting for this guy to join us and for C-Dawg's date to arrive. Then my guy showed up with two friends. Like, a couple. Which, ok, that's fine and fair, I'm out with my friend it's ok for your friends to show up too. It was a little unexpected but that's ok, I can roll with it.

Except when C-Dawg and I started arranging seats so they could all sit with us, my guy said it would be too squishy so they left to sit somewhere else.

Not at the table next to us.

Fully somewhere else.

C-Dawg and I just looked at each other and she started laughing.

I think the phrase "What the hell?" was used more than once and we went on with our night, me shaking my head every two minutes.

About half an hour later, just as I was almost finished turning to her and going "Seriously?" he randomly walked up to our table and sat down.

When I heard C-Dawg say "Oh, here he is" I thought it was *her* date, but no. It was my guy.

Um, so, ok, allow me to try to make conversation with you even though I'm somewhere between pissed and confused.

Fortunately, C-Dawg's date showed up and I was able to chat with him instead of having to talk to my guy, who wasn't trying to talk to either C-Dawg or I.

In fact, when she tried to ask him some questions, she told me later, he avoided answering them all.

C thinks that it's a cultural difference.

"He's very typically English" she said.

I don't know what that means so I asked her, yesterday to describe it.

She and her ex spent a while in England while her ex was getting his degree and she said that they'd go out a lot with his friends and she found them all to be very lackadaisical with their dates and girlfriends.

To use her words they were "very, well, if you want to date me you have to come pay attention to me because I'll just be over here doing my own thing and putting no effort in."

I don't think you can describe a whole country of men in a single bound and I don't think the men she met while visiting England are necessarily typical. (Plus, in my fantasy land, all men with accents are extremely sexy gentlemen who woo women.) (I may be mistaken in this but I like to think I'm not.)

I'm sure the fellow was out of his comfort zone in some way or something because his behaviour felt very odd. Maybe it was a cultural thing because I've never experienced that sort of thing before.

In my books, if you're going to meet someone, be it romantically or friends, you go and you sit with them and talk with them and hang out with them and that's that.

So I don't think I'll be hanging out with that particular guy again although C-Dawg found the whole thing so funny she would like me to invite him out with us again next weekend.

I'm still too baffled for that I think.

Priorities

Most of the good C-Dawg stories I have are getting written down elsewhere, but this is so very typical of the awesome things she says and how they make me laugh.

So rough weekend, yeah? For C-Dawg and I both, but for very different reasons, so we'd planned to have a big Easter dinner at her parents' place but sickness and babies and plans changed and the two of us ended up heading out to the most delicious pizza place in town instead.

We got seated at the bar which allows you to watch the pizzas being made right in front of you, by hand, before they're slid into the brick oven and cooked to perfection and melty cheese heaven.

C-Dawg and I were very happy to be sat there as the pizza chefs on this particular night were all handsome young men.

(Plus, it's actually very interesting to watch)

By the end of the evening, I was practically drooling over one of the chefs and as C-Dawg and I left I lamented the fact that since I figured he was a good few years younger than me it would never work out.

I told her that it bummed me out because when I was a good few years younger I wouldn't have had the guts to go for it or even flirt with him but now that I'm closer to having the guts to flirt or heck, even ask him out, I'm embarrassed to because I feel the age difference (whether real or imagined) would just make it weird.

C-Dawg told me that it didn't matter anyway, because I could just go home and use this hot young guy as fodder for a happy bedtime story (if you read between the lines at what she was not so delicately getting at.) And I told her that no, because it would just make me sad to realize that I'm too old for such a pretty young thing.

C-Dawg, always practical in these matters, turned to me and said "Well, at least get off and then be sad.*"

It's good to have a friend who's got her priorities sorted out.







*Not that you asked, but no I didn't. Just wanted to be clear.

It's Still Most Probably Fine?

Soooooooooo I had that followup ultrasound and as my anxiety suspected (sigh) it wasn't quite routine.  They had found something on the mammogram they wanted to check on.

I didn't exactly know this but I had a suspicion as when I had the call with my doctor she mentioned something (that honestly I didn't quite hear) about "found on the left breast" but I think I tried to sort of ignore that as I was already pretty nervous about the whole thing.  And anxious.  Because they're separate things, I swear!

C-Dawg picked me up after work and went with me which really helped.  Like the night before I kept waking up and I'd just say to myself "I get to see C-Dawg tomorrow" and it would make me happy enough that I'd calm down a bit and go back to sleep (until the next time I woke up.)

I'm really really glad she offered (and I let her) because there was a real struggle to find parking (which a colleague had warned me about but I sort of shrugged it off as we all have different levels of tolerance) but with C-Dawg she didn't get stressed by that at all and I was able to sit in the passenger seat and relax about it, in part because we were plenty early and in part because I wasn't driving so the responsibility wasn't mine!  So we parked and chatted about life for a while and then headed in.

While the tech was doing the... what, scanning? I was able to crane my neck up to look at the screen and I could tell she was taking photos of something and because I don't know much about this sort of thing I was sort of like "well she's looking at something specific... shrug."  And then she said she needed to go consult with the radiologist, which again I wasn't sure what that meant so figure that's just how it goes.  And then the radiologist came in to the room and you guys?  It was the really handsome guy I'd seen in the hallways when C-Dawg and I were arriving.  I kind of wanted to die.  (WHY YOU HAVE TO BE A HANDSOME MAN!?!)

He did some of his own looking and then explained that he's pretty sure it's a whatever and either he could take some biopsies or I could have another mammogram again in 6 months.  Well I didn't love that particular experience so I sort of shrugged and said like ok sure, do the biopsy, FULLY thinking that that would mean like hey come back in a week or so to get that done but nope, it meant them setting up for the procedure right then and there.

I'm not sure what I was feeling as I realized the biopsy was going to happen like, NOW, but I did kind of wish someone would tell C-Dawg it was going to be a bit longer but I tried to not worry too much about that and just be like calm and still.  The radiologist explained what he was going to do and I heard him and figure some part of my brain processed it and he had me listen to the noise of the something or other that, I think, would take the biopsy so that I'd not be surprised by the noise and wouldn't jump and I was like um yep, ok.  

The area was prepped, numbing shot went in.  I think a slice was made?  I wasn't watching, to be honest.  He put some marker in the area (so future scans could see where the biopsy was done) and the tech asked if I felt that and I said "well yes, but it's not as bad as the dentist" and the doc said "yeah I get compared to a dentist a lot" (go figure.)

There were three or four "chunks" (the noise the thing made) while he used the ultrasound to guide himself and then a steri strip and bandaid were put on and the (still handsome) radiologist left and I was there with the ultrasound tech feeling a little bewildered having walked in not quite knowing what the ultrasound was going to be like (but having had an ultrasound before on different locations) and coming out with a hole in my breast and a clip in my breast and some sort of weird thing found IN my breast that is "most likely" not an issue but that they are checking out just in case.

My bra went back on, an ice pack was placed inside the bra on the location of the incision and biopsy.  I was given an after care sheet and kindly sent on my way.  (The tech was great, I let the hospital know that afterwards.)

I saw C-Dawg waiting in the waiting area and babbled "I HAD A BIOPSY?  THEY JUST DID IT?  RIGHT THERE?!" as we made our way back out to the parking lot.  And I was in a "positive" mood because, I think I was stunned.

She dropped me back off at my car (she'd gotten me directly from work) and I managed to get myself home (several of my usual roads were blocked but I was able to stop and get the mapping thing going to help me as I knew I wasn't likely at 100%.  

I got home, still in this weird EVERYTHING IS FINE mode.  I did some gentle exercise (like really, just walking around) had a careful shower (avoided getting the area wet) and plopped down on my couch.

My parents called about an hour later, they'd known the followup scan was that day and they asked if it had been straightforward and I explained not really.  They said I must be worried and I was like well kind of not really?  Like at this point I was more anxious about the parking and the process and all the rest and I had a sneaking suspicion they were having me in for a REASON so I wasn't completely surprised and like it's either going to be benign or not and that part is not within my control.  If it's not great, then there will be next steps.  I told them I had an appointment with my doctor in a couple of weeks for when the results are expected to be in and so until then... shrug?

Am I worried?  Not really.  The tech said that she wasn't seeing any of the "scary" signs.  The doc didn't seem overly concerned.  He'd said that if it was what he's sure it was, it was likely there my whole life and could either stay in or come out.  I've googled and there's a 28% chance it's harbouring some naughty cells but I sort of feel like if it is, it's not going to be terribly awful to treat.  And if it is cancerous, I'm sure I'll be uncomfortable and things will be weird and not great and sore, but it doesn't feel like a "this is going to kill me" sort of thing right now.

You can tell me that's denial if you want, but that's ok.   I think I'm *maybe*? putting on a good face?  But also, it's probably not an issue, you know?  (Or if it is... I don't know.  Hard to know if I'm coping well or completely stuffing it all down.)

I left the big bandage on for 24 hours and wish I hadn't as I either discovered or re-learned that I have an allergic reaction to some bandages/adhesives, or maybe latex.  When I pulled the big bandaid off the next day there was a worse wound and pain from like a chemical burn on the bandaid edges than where the biopsy was taken.  Sigh.

Trying to make a mental note to let whoever needs to know.  And also for myself because I could have come home and taken off *their* bandaid and put on one of my own that I (knock on wood) don't react to.

A couple of days after that, I took of the steri strips and found a MUCH smaller "cut" (?) than I'd expected but also that it wasn't really all that joined back together, so I gently cleaned it (and patted dry) and hauled it together with my own butterfly bandage from home and I missed a few days of aqua class so I bought some waterproof bandaids to throw on in case it's still not quite healed by next class.  Plus for the bandaid wounds which... WHAT THE HECK!??? (sigh)

So, yeah.  The ultrasound follow up was not quite routine. Things are probably fine and are probably going to be fine and it's probably just a weird thing my body grew but I won't know for another while.  My mind is rather blown that I went in expecting a rather boring ultrasound (I was more worried about parking and finding the place, etc.) and it was never even slightly on my radar that anything *other* than an ultrasound would happen.  Wow.

Turning fifty's been "fun" so far!  (Not that this is related to turning fifty, just that I turned fifty and finally made myself go for a mammogram that I've been half avoiding for a while... ahem.  Get those screening tests folks, you just never know.  You know?)

It Never Be's

So Friday (last) started out so well, I knew it was going to be an awesome day.

I slept in (ahhh, bliss) and went for a morning walk to mail some....er...mail (because, seriously, what else can you mail? turtles?) and it was sunny and warm and I hadn't had any caffeine yet so I got myself a Slurpee. Nothing says awesome Summer day like a 10 am Coke Slurpee cooling you down in the sun.

But do you know what really tipped the morning into full-blown awesomeness? The two shirtless, amazingly hot guys who jogged past me, sweaty and gorgeous as I walked home. Ahhhhh, sugar, sun, and sexy, my own personal Summer trifecta.

I went over to where C-Dawg was staying and picked her up (so there would be no driving necessary) and we came back to my apartment, poured ourselves a summer-worthy drink and headed out on the town.

We wandered through downtown, people watching and talking and laughing and window shopping and then we headed to one of the local patios and ordered up a pitcher and some appetizers.

And that's when the real fun began.

You see, C-Dawg and I love people watching. And more than that, we love making up little stories about people and trying to guess who they are. We'd soon discovered that Friday would have to be known as "Everyone Looks Familiar Day" because I kept on seeing people that I thought looked familiar but I couldn't tell if they actually were or if I was just imagining it.

We decided that the couple next to us had just boated in on their yacht and that the guys across from us were all discussing their volleyball league's last game.

We also tried to narrow down which men C felt were too young for me and which she deemed "just right." Once we'd narrowed my age-group down to a ten year span she tested me to see if I could actually tell which guys were ok and which were in the "are you crazy, he's way too young" category.

I did not do well at this. (sigh)

As the pitcher got emptied, a table behind us became filled with a bunch of guys. C-Dawg, needing to "get out of the sun" (which we're pretty sure the guys could tell was an obvious ploy for her to be able to stare at the guys instead of having to pretend to look around and can I just say thank goodness for sunglasses and how easy they make it to check out cute guys?) sat next to me and we started to figure out the back story for these guys.

Later, C decided to choose which of the guys she'd set me up with and when she did she very kindly me that I could go out with the nice, sweet, geeky one because I'm a geek too at which point I protested until she promised she was a geek as well and it wasn't a bad thing. (Strangely enough I know what she means.)

At one point, the waiter came over and there'd been this on-going joke between the three of us because servers kept on trying to bring us food we hadn't ordered and I kept on making this dumb joke about it and then when C-Dawg told me the joke was getting old and the waiter laughed, I turned to him and said (and I quote) "Hey, I'm just going to keep saying it because it never be's not funny!"

At which point he suggested that this wasn't our first patio of the evening and I couldn't stop laughing because I couldn't believe I'd said "be's" and how as I'd said it it had TOTALLY been a word.

Ahhh alcohol, what silly things you do to my brain.

We hit up a few more places after that and went for dinner at my favourite place and then watched an awesomely bad movie back at my place. (Hi, I'm Victoria and I'm going to say the word 'place' as many times as possible in one sentence. I are a good writer.)

It was pretty darn awesome and I'm sure there's more I can think of, like how she wet-willied a statue and how she almost convinced me to give nice geek guy my number and how we sat outside the best ice cream place in town and convinced a bunch of other people that yes, they really should go inside and get a cone.

A good day, a great afternoon, a fun evening. It always be's like that with the C-Dawg. I can't wait til we get to do it again.

The Race

Alllllrighty. Now that I've recovered somewhat from Sunday's 10K, I thought I'd tell you a bit more about it; tell you the stories.

For me it's a ridiculously early wake up. I actually was out of bed earlier than I would be on a work day. Crazy.

Wanted to try to get some food in me because I do not have fun running in the mornings, but do much better running in the afternoon/evenings with a breakfast, lunch and some snacks in my system, so wanted to make sure I'd had something. But waking up that early confused my stomach and it was all, what? Eat? Nah. So I had a half a bagel and a bit of tea and a couple of nuts and called that breakfast.

Headed out the door just before 7:30 (yes, AM!) to meet a friend and walk down to the start together.

We met C-Dawg halfway there and marvelled at the number of people we could already see heading towards the start.

It was an entirely new route this year from the one I walked last year and I missed being able to see the elite runners starting, but there were some cool moments right at the start when a cheer spread through the ten thousand strong group and made its way back to us.

It was also cool once we started moving forward because that meant it was time!

In the race I ran in December, there were maybe a hundred of us so we all just gathered together and started. For this race? With upwards of 10,000 people (yeah, you read that right!) racing, it took us (slower folk) close to 8 minutes to even get to the start line. How awesome is that.

By the time we were starting to run? The elite runners were one fifth of the way done.

Let that blow your mind!

C-Dawg and I weaved our way through downtown, trying not to go to fast but also trying not to get stuck behind walkers. It was really cool to see the normally busy downtown streets closed to traffic and full of people walking and running.

One of the prettiest parts of the route came when we turned onto Vancouver Street and you could see the thousands of thousands of people up a slight incline ahead of us, the trees lining the street and the mountains framed in the background.

It was truly spectacular.

And was also the first time I got a little choked up.

The first part of the race felt pretty good but as much as we tried not to, we must have gone faster than planned because by our fourth set (we run 10 and 1s : 10 minutes of running and one minute of walking) I was starting to feel a little rough.

C-Dawg pointed out that we'd come super far pretty fast and at that point there really was no turning back (we'd already passed the street where my apartment is, ha!) so I figured we'd just keep going even though I knew I was running out of steam and there was still a good few K to go.

They have music stations all throughout the course and it only just occurred to me now why I felt like they weren't playing as much.

Dude, because I was running!

I remember last year I'd hear a good full song as I walked past the bands and this year it was like I'd hear a bar or two and I couldn't figure out why. (I think maybe my brain never quite got out of bed.)

There was another nice turn and then we were on the waterfront.

If you've never been to Victoria, we have this waterfront road, Dallas Rd., that snakes right along the ocean. And when you're on it and looking out at the ocean, you're also looking at this beautiful set of mountains, the Olympics. And when it's sunny and the blue skies are highlighting the snow still on the mountains you remember why you love to live here. And when your best friend reminds you that two years ago you'd just been in a serious car accident and weren't able to walk without pain never mind be running, you know you're very very lucky.

And I got choked up again.

Which is when one of the hills decided to murder me. I took an extra walk break and C-Dawg who could not stop because otherwise the hill wouldn't let her up was always just a few people ahead of me and I wasn't actually sure I could keep running the race anymore.

So I started telling myself I was doing awesome (yes, outloud) and that I was proud of myself and that I could do it.

And then I saw the girl dressed in the bear costume and the firefighter in full gear and I said well, if they can do it, I can certainly keep trying.

But I was feeling pretty icky.

Kept trying to get C-Dawg to tell me a story but neither of us had breath to spare.

Know what was lovely though? The people on the sidelines.

Shouting encouragement, holding signs. The little kids waving at you and the strangers cheering you on.

It helps.

I'd find myself looking at them and saying thank you. Listening them say I was doing great even though I knew they weren't really talking to me and that I wasn't really doing great.

My favourite sign of the day? By far?

"Go Nads"

I'll just give you a minute on that one.

It was a massive sign held by a group of older ladies with awesome hats and I saw them twice during the race and both times I laughed.

Go Nads.

Awesome.

Got to the point where I knew the end wasn't more than 2K away but I also knew I didn't have it in me to keep going. But that I still had to. But I wasn't sure why.

Just kept on telling myself I could do it and I would do it but man it didn't feel fun.

Not that running really usually does feel fun, but at least when I'm not in a race I can stop when I want.

We turned one of the corners near Fishermans's Wharf and there was a group of international UVic students all there cheering us on with signs and I nearly lost it. Could have sat down right there in the middle of the road and cried.

There's something so amazing about strangers cheering on strangers. Knowing that people are doing something difficult and challenging and just being there for them and encouraging them. It's amazing.

Say what you will about the troubles of the world, we are an amazing creature we humans. I love people. I really do.

At that point I knew that there was less than a K to go but I didn't think I could finish. Didn't want to either. Kept telling C-Dawg as much.

I specifically remember telling her I wasn't going to do this again. Like, never.

Not sure I remember what she said or how many times but I just kept telling her I couldn't do it, that the finish was too far and I really didn't think I could really. But she just kept telling me I could and I would and "come on dude, we can do it."

I swear the finish line was further away than last year. The last 400 meters were about a year long and there was this one guy at the end who was telling people they were almost done and that they could do it. I remember looking at him and saying "tell me again." And he did.

Told me I was almost there, that I could do it.

Which I didn't think I could. Honestly.

Right right at the end when we were in sight of the glorious FINISH banner, someone shouted out my name. I couldn't even look to the side to see who it was but I wanted to cry.

Instead I just kept running.

I can imagine what my face looked like, but I kept running.

And then C-Dawg and I linked arms, and smiling (somehow) crossed the finish line.

Together.

Which was awesome.

And then I thought I'd die. Would have felt better to do so I think.

Ripped my Janestrap off so I could breathe and took a good few deep breaths. Finally.

We high fived a few thousand times and wandered towards the (what I like to call) treats tents.

My chocolate milk was calling my name and I'd mentally promised it to myself a good few times during the run.

By the time we got into the line I felt much better. Was still red in the face and sweaty but I could breathe and was not going to die. Actually started to feel quite chipper.

So when I saw a guy in line behind us with a tiny bib number (elite runner!) I started up a conversation.

The three of us chatted about the race and how he'd done (let's just say he could have run the course three times in the time it took the two of us) and how he was doing World Cup qualifying and it was the best conversation.

I know I have a thing for runners, but part of it is that I'm genuinely interested.

I love that they're continually pushing themselves to reach a goal and that they're focussed and determined.

And hot.

But yeah, we chatted with this really nice super awesome runner who, it turns out, runs for Canada (I may have bowed at him when he told us that) and I'd just run the same race as him.

I don't know if other races are like that, but you guys? C-Dawg and I just started running in September and we just chatted away with a world class runner. How cool is that? He flew out for the race. And was happy to be there and happy with the city and the course and there he was right behind us in line. Pretty amazing to have that kind of experience, I think. Often the elite runners all know each other and stick to themselves. Oh, yeah, and are already home by the time most of the rest of us are finishing! But I love that this guy was there and so friendly and cool.

It was a gorgeous, gorgeous day, all sun and no wind and a good experience.

Of Camels And Ducks

Oh the irony of writing one thing one day and turning around the next day with a whole other set of insecurities and hurts knocking at your door, waiting to take you down, yet again, but from a different angle.

I am an emotional duck. Or maybe a swan.

You know that saying about how ducks and swans are seen to be gliding along the surface of the pond, all smooth and elegant, serene and calm, while underneath the water their little legs are going like crazy to keep them going?

Yeah, well that's me and my emotions.

And you combine that with all the camels that make up my life and I feel like all my backs are getting broken by these tiny little things that shouldn't matter but then they're just the tipping point and it's no wonder I feel like I'm sitting here not even knowing how to explain myself. (And can't help but wonder why it feels like so much straw is getting thrown my way lately.)

However I was raised, or whatever it is that hurt me or made me wary I am who I am at this moment and I'm not sure that that person is capable of holding good solid relationships.

My Mom tells me that even as a child I would only have one close friend. I wouldn't have said that about my childhood if you'd asked me, but that's how she sees it.

I think what I see myself as doing, as being, is protective of myself. And wary of being hurt and left.

Or perhaps more to the point, of people choosing someone else over me.

Because that's what happens.

A best friend would find a new friend or a friend who lived closer or a friend who played on their team or was in their class and that new friend would get their attention and I'd fade into the background until someone else would want to spend time with me and share their stories and secrets.

There was a while there where I had a good solid group of friends, but I moved away for a year and when I got back they'd moved on and I was never really able to reconnect with anyone in quite the same way; I was always just slightly on on the outside.

My friends now have all moved on in their own way too. They've all married, many of them have had kids and it moves you to the outside; to the periphery.

And so maybe all this pre-loads my camels with so much straw on their backs that it doesn't take much for me to be hurt, for that back to get re-broken and no, I don't know why I'm built this way so no, I don't know how to change it.

Some people are good at that. C-Dawg's good at that. She can recognize where she has walls up or is working from past hurts and she can call herself on it and try to fix it.

I don't even know where I'm coming from half the time.

Case in point? This weekend.

C-Dawg made a comment about the way I was reacting to her new relationship and I was completely surprised. It's not the first time lately that I've been spoken to about how people are perceiving me so I tried to see where I may have made her feel that way and I apologized.

But the things with my damn camels is that the straw just seems to stick there. It's not like it blows itself back off once I've dealt with the issue, and so then suddenly we're dealing with something that's not even about what it's about.

C-Dawg wants to move forward with her running whereas I don't, exactly. I kind of just want to stick at where I'm at while maybe getting a little bit faster and increasing my cardio. But generally, I want to stick at "still enjoying it" and "middle of the pack."

I understand and respect her desire to push herself and know exactly how she feels. I'm just not there.

Which should be totally fine, right? Absolutely. I want to be the one on the sidelines cheering her on as she zips by in her fourth marathon.

Except for my damn camels.

Because all of a sudden it's not about her wanting to run faster and father than I do, it's about her not wanting to be with me anymore.

It's about our lives going in separate directions.

I'd wanted running to be "our" thing and all of a sudden I see her slipping away and moving on with a life that doesn't include me. A life that includes a new boyfriend and her son and their lives together and her running both literally and figuratively away from me.

Which isn't what it's about.

C-Dawg just wants to run.

But here's the thing with me and my little duck legs.

Because I know when she tells me that she wants to join a clinic I can't make it to that the absolute sadness that comes over me isn't about the clinic. I just can't get to what it is about so I withdraw.

And C-Dawg notices.

Most people don't. Most people just see the duck, floating along, serene and calm. They don't realize what's going on and how twisted and anxious and hurt I am on the inside.

She notices damn fast.

And this time it sort of feels like our wires got crossed and as I sit here writing this I feel like I'm sitting here waiting for one of the people I care most about in the world to write me an email saying she's done with me.

Because that's how it's worked for me in the past.

That's the straws and the baggage and the scars and whatever other metaphors you can come up with.

People leave me.

Friends move on. Boyfriends break up with me. And now, with my Dad being sick, the reality becomes that parents die.

I've somehow learned that keeping people at a safe distance helps. Helps the hurt to hurt less. So it's such a risk for me to have a close friend when that opens up the potential to be left.

And hurt.

But I don't know what to do.

I don't know if I'm supposed to just babble out every little thing I'm upset about or if I'm supposed to wait until I'm calmer.

I've been fighting myself this weekend, fighting the urge and the habit to push C-Dawg away because that's usually what I do in this situation. I see the situation turning in some way and feel the potential for me to get really really hurt so I push away first.

And I've been trying not to do that. Am trying to grow here.

But I feel like my duck legs and my straw-backed camels screwed me over and how many times can you ask someone to be patient? How many times can you ask someone to understand you when you don't even understand yourself.

I don't know what I should do. Do I keep people at that safe distance and just live with the alone that comes with that? Or do I let people in and be inevitably hurt and disappointed because we're all only human and no one can read my mind.

Perhaps I am an incredibly selfish and self-involved person. Because sometimes I feel like the world should revolve around me damnit. I sometimes get to a point where I feel like I've given so much to so many and at the end of the day it's still just me taking care of me and watching out for me, when what I'd like is someone in my life taking care of me the way I try to take care of my loved ones. But I think my loved ones don't know how to take care of me sometimes because I'm scared to tell them what I need.

I'm scared to tell them because they might say no, or they might roll their eyes, or they might leave me, so I sit and I wait and I hope and I send them mental brain waves and hope that they read my mind because isn't it clear that my little legs are flailing away just under the surface of the water here?

Isn't it clear that my camels are already over loaded and I need help un-packing them?

Isn't it clear that I still haven't learned to find myself really, truly, honestly to be someone people would choose to love.

I think I've always wanted to be first in someone's life, but I'm really starting to think that maybe I'm not someone who will ever have that.

Or maybe you'll tell me that that's not actually how it works.

The Next Day

The next day was moving day for C-Dawg, and when I talked to her in the morning she gave me very specific instructions: "If there's any chance of you seeing this guy this morning, don't you dare rush over here!" So when I got a text from him a few minutes later asking how I'd slept, I figured she wouldn't mind if I took a few hours out of moving day to hang out with him again.

We arranged to meet and go down to the BC day celebrations downtown. (There's a lot goes on in this town over the August long weekend) I was nervous and excited to see him, but I wasn't worried.

The night before had been so...easy. That's the only way I can describe it. It was easy and fun and relaxed and we'd laughed a lot and had so much to talk about, my nervousness wasn't from worry that it would be awkward, it was from excitement to see him again and wondering what on earth I would wear and would he still think I was cute in the daylight?

We walked around and looked at the exhibits and listened to some music and the only thing that was a little uncomfortable with me was knowing how close to sit with him. I didn't want to be too touchy feely, but I didn't want to be too distant either. So instead of worrying too much about it, I just sat and didn't care.

After a while we left the music place and sat to watch a show, and there we just talked and talked. He told me about his past relationship and what hadn't gone well there, and we talked a bit about our families and what we did for work and we talked about why we were both on the dating site and how it'd gone for us.

I'd told him that I had to go help C-Dawg move and it was a bummer when it came to be that time. I didn't want to leave, just wanted to stay and hang out and talk some more. It was that relaxing. And nice. It was really good.

But we headed out and exchanged a nice hug when we got to my place with a promise to see each other again soon.

I headed over to C-Dawg where the hired helpers had done the heavy work and both she and her parents started teasing me for the huge grin I had on my face.

And then continued to tease me as this guy and I texted back and forth for most of the rest of the day.

I think what I said to C-Dawg that day was that I really liked this guy. I liked him but I was nervous.

I didn't want to get too excited about something and end up disappointed.

I'd met too many guys online who then proceeded to not want to hang out another time and while this was different, I still didn't want to build it up too much and end up disappointed.

But by the end of that day, we'd both let each other know that we'd enjoyed our time together and were really looking forward to seeing each other again. It was really nice.

Put It On My Tab

So I have a crush on a bartender.

And, no, I'm not going to tell you where he works because half of those of you who live here will know him and the other half will say "Oh, yeah, I've seen him, he's totally cute!" and another half of you will go tell him you know someone who has a crush on him and he should date me already. (What? I never said I was good at math.)

C-dawg and I discovered him the same night we discovered Freckle-Butt and we both thought he was cute and funny and seemed like a good guy.

We went back a couple of weekends ago and he remembered us (which, of course made me blush a little) and remembered my name (even though he called C-dawg by my name) and he was still cute.

C-dawg had given him my number the first time we were there (I may have dared her to after we'd left for the next stop on our tour) so he's had the opportunity to pursue things if he'd wanted to.

I know bartenders and the like get hit on all the time and must get a ton of numbers, and for all we know he could be in a relationship so it's rather a moot point of why he didn't call me.

When I was telling another girlfriend of mine about the cute crush bartender guy she asked me if there'd been any flirting. Well, yes, there was, but as I told her "he's a bartender, of course there was flirting."

What I think is that C-dawg and I are fun to talk to and good looking. We also don't get outrageously drunk and that's probably refreshing for someone who spends their work hours sober with very drunk people. I'm, of course, a little disappointed that this hasn't turned into a whirlwind romance, but such is reality.

So I guess this isn't a crush that's going anywhere, but it's all I've got right now. What about you? Any good crushes going on?

Oh Universe, You're So Funny!

I can't remember if I told you, which is usually a prelude to me figuring I should just tell you any way and risk it being a re-telling, but C-Dawg and I got transferred to the same spy building and have been working in neighbouring spy caves for a few months now.  (Happy grin)  Not that this is what the story is about, but it'd be weird if you didn't know that basic fact.

A few weeks ago, C-Dawg was informed that there would be a want-to-be-spy in training who would be observing her and that she would be partly mentoring.

This isn't a big deal, other than the fact that it was a surprise, but then we were told it would be a male spy.

This also isn't a big deal except that whenever a male spy is around everyone looks at me with raised eyebrows as I'm the only single gal around (sigh.)

Some of us were joking about what he'd be like and the "bets" ranged from an unfortunately balding twenty year old to a over the top caricature of a "flamingly" gay man, to my attempt at humour that my bet was that he would be my future husband.

Fast forward to Friday of last week when C-Dawg informed me that the spy in training was going to come by to meet her.  I finished off my secret spy diamond theft (nuts, shouldn't have told you that) and went into her spy cave (via secret entrance) to meet the mystery man and oh.

Totally could be my future husband.

Blush.

Suffice it to say I was totally embarrassed and managed to shake his hand and say hello before I had to run away giggling.  I pulled myself together and put on my professional spy demeanor (and cape) and went back to chat with the two of them about how we'd train him to hang from steel ropes in the middle of bank vaults and maneuver over and under laser alarm system thingamies.  (Please forget I'm telling you this top secret information!)

From the ten minutes I spent with him I can tell you I may be sporting a small crush.  He's cute and has longer hair (which he'll have to tie back during missions, duh) and seems very intelligent and worldly.  He might make a good spy, he might not have quite what it takes but I left Friday after work all aflutter.

What if he was my future husband?  What if he wasn't?  What if I liked him?  What if he didn't like me?  Why was I even thinking about this he probably had a girlfriend.  Maybe he was single though.  Maybe it didn't matter because he'll be annoying.  But I don't want him to be annoying.  Why am I freaking out about this? 

And I got myself so sort of stressed/worked up that I pretty much burst into tears over it all.

I've managed to calm down and realize that he'll be an interesting distraction and probably a nice person to get to know and that's all.  Anything other than that is improbable at this point and not worth getting upset over.

I don't even know, it was just weird to have all these thoughts about a guy I'd just met and know nothing about and I think it's hard to find a balance between being happy and hopeful and staying calm and realistic and just not expecting anything.

He doesn't start working with C-Dawg for a while so it's not even a big deal at all, which is good because it gives me some time to chill out and get myself together.

(Remember... probably not single, probably we won't "like" each other, might even be annoying for more than ten mintues at a time.)

Ow

I hurt all over.

But, like, not in a "I'm sick" kind of way but in a "C-Dawg took me to her boot camp" kind of way.

So, yeah.  C-Dawg took me to her boot camp.  I've never done a boot camp before and am not a huge fan of group exercising type of things and plus I don't like to hurt and plus plus I don't know what else, but C-Dawg has been going for a few months and has noticed the benefits and I figured I'd give it a try.

Ow.

The lady who runs it was awesome and adapted everything for me and my newness.

C-Dawg had told me that the other ladies in the group had been at it for a year or more and so not to even compare to them at all.

But still.  When I went to do the sit ups holding the bar all the other gals had held and whatever'd with and could barely lift the bar thing?  I felt a little weak.

Or maybe a lot weak.

But I was also so tired by that point that I didn't care.

And I didn't feel too bad after it and I didn't puke during it (yay!) but I'm feeling it today.

Not pain, just "I exercised" and "my abs don't want to function today" kind of sore.

I think I'll try again next week, but I felt the need to complain about it here for a minute.

Partly because I lay down earlier and had a hard time getting back up.

My abs are mad.

Or something.

Anyone want to carry me around for the rest of the day?

Wingmen

C-Dawg and I had an interesting conversation the other night where we both discovered we were both more used to being wingmen than whatever the opposite of wingman is. (Center of attention?)

We'd both gone through highschool and University with girlfriends who were hotter than us. My dear friend M was a tall, gorgeous blonde who'd literally turn heads when we walked in a room. I love her dearly because she never knew it and I'm still not sure she does. But when M and I would be out and about I was the friend next to her that was rarely noticed and I used to sit and laugh as drunken guys would fall over themselves trying to talk to her.

C-Dawg had a similar experience and we were talking about the fact that we're used to not being the pretty one or the one that gets all the attention.

So imagine our surprise when we were out the other night and the waitress brought us both a drink that had been bought for us by "that gentleman there at the bar."

We kind of looked at each other like "Us? Seriously?" because we were both used to someone ELSE getting the attention.

We each assumed the guy was interested in the other and it got us to talking. What happens when two girls who are used to being the less pretty one get together?

Neither of us are scene stealers or attention getters and I would guess if pressed, each of us would say we think the other one is prettier. (These thoughts can turn into habits you see.)

Personally, I think it makes things awesome.

We're both in the habit of being a wingman so we're each other's wingman at the same time!

Wait, that maybe only makes sense in my head.

Now, the fact that the gentleman who bought us drinks (for which we nodded a polite thank you) proceeded to stare at us for the next hour and a half (no I'm not kidding) turned fully around on his bar stool with his legs wide open in a way that would have seemed completely hilarious to you if you'd been there was a little awkward.

We'd been half watching the hockey game on the tv above his head and at one point my team missed and I kind of threw my hand up in despair and C-Dawg mumbled "you know it looks like you're waving right?" and I panicked and proceeded to do the hand throwing thing as if I was an Italian man discussing pasta and politics made it even more hilarious.

The fact that C-Dawg had driven us and wasn't going to have a second beer but didn't want to not drink it and seem rude and so therefore swapped it with a guy sitting at the next table who had an almost empty beer when the guy at the bar went to the bathroom made it nearly hysterical.

So here's what I say. . . wingmen may not get heads turned when they walk in a room, but I'm starting to think they have more fun.

Dude

Now *that* was quite a week.

I got absolutely blasted by work (not that I talk about work but seriously, dude) and came home every night utterly exhausted but couldn't quite get the sleeps I needed to feel rested.

I had some very intense dreams, one where C-Dawg and I were on this awesome, crazy 10K run through forests and down these deadly hills over roots and puddles and along beaches and it was an amazing run/race but so not restful. I had another one where I had the opportunity to go take photos in Paris but I was the only person who didn't know to wear a disguise so the whole dream was stressful and I missed out on good photos. Did you know Paris is entirely black and white? (I don't remember that from last time I was there but dreams don't lie.)

I also had some great, hilarious moments and a couple of good runs with C-Dawg (yay!) and some things click fortunately into place.

Like the time I went to buy new sweat pants, (didn't really need new sweat pants, but, and this is the truth, wanted an extra pair to keep at C-Dawg's so I can always be super comfy and relaxed over there) and found out that starting five minutes after I got there the store was having a surprise half off sale on the very sweat pants I was willing to pay full price for and it was very YAY!

I'm really looking forward to a restful day today and then a night out with C-Dawg.

Both are very much deserved after this week.

Hope your Saturday and your weekend are both deliciously awesome and relaxing too!

Melting

It's Sunday morning as I type this.  The sun is out, which is so lovely, and the snow is continuing to melt away, which I know makes things easier for a lot of people (but I will certainly miss it.)

I feel like I've made it through winter now.  You can start to see the days being longer.  Heck, there was still light out some time after five this week, it was decidedly wonderful.  I feel like now it's time for Spring, all the "winter things" are done... Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, it's time for easier days.  Because yes, I struggle in Winter and maybe sometimes even in Fall. 

My birthday is in this last chunk of time, and it was a weird one this year.  I had plans for the day itself, dinner with my parents, lunch with C-Dawg, but my parents had a rough bout of the flu and had to cancel and C-Dawg's been unwell herself and she messaged me on the morning of and said she was so sorry but just not well enough to have lunch.

I completely understood and I wasn't upset, that's just life.  But it was my first birthday ever alone.

I could have gone to see Jason, or even exposed myself to my parents' flu.  I thought of seeing my brother but it turns out his back had gone out so... yeah, my first ever birthday alone.

It was sad.

I sung myself happy birthday, I stuck a match in a jaffa cake (don't ask why I had some!) and, well, for the first time I didn't see my family on my birthday day.

I did see friends that week and I did see my parents not long after (my Mom only as my Dad was still not up for it...) I'm not looking for sympathy, just sharing that it was a difficult and sad/lonely experience for me.

C-Dawg's message, however, gave me a strange feeling of permission.  To actually say out loud that I am not well.  We both mean a great deal to each other and we know birthdays are fun and special days and I really appreciated that she *wanted* to see me and have a delicious lunch but that she wasn't well enough to do so and told me so.  I'm not good at that. 

I power through far too often and tell people that I'm managing or hanging in or whatever the line is.  Which is true sometimes, but also sometimes not.

I haven't really said it outloud myself, I did break down this weekend and tell Jason that I really think I'm not all that well, but it's hard to admit.  I'm looking to C-Dawg as my inspiration that on the days I'm really not ok, that's when I should be saying to myself and others that I'm not well today.

So, I did.  When I went out that weekend to catch up with friends I haven't seen in, well since my last birthday, I met with one of them a bit earlier and explained where I'm at and how I've been doing.  See, I haven't really talked to anyone outside of my very very immediate circle about what's going on, and really within that circle, I've only really talked fully with Jason.  I dunno.. the earth didn't stop spinning when I told my friends I was really struggling with anxiety.  I don't know if they think any differently of me.  They haven't suddenly started to call every five minutes to check if I'm ok so... you know, maybe it's not so awful if people "know"?

It's just private and personal and awful and I know how some will think about it, or about me.  I've heard them talk about people who had "breakdowns" or "lost it" or... whatever and there's often such judgement that I'd rather avoid.

But knowing there is judgement anyway, I suppose.  That were I the healthiest I've ever been some people still might think poorly of me or dislike me or judge me.

I can *know* this and still not feel comfortable with talking about my mental and emotional health.

But I'm also feeling like I'm at a point where I need change.  Big change.  Big, POSITIVE change and keeping this all secret/silent hasn't made me better.

I just know there are certain things you can't take back once they're out.

Well, let's be real, everything.  But yeah, I'm not well, and I don't know that I've fully accepted or admitted that as I've been trying so hard to push through everything.

And it's also possible this is just how I'm feeling after a long winter, and some new physical health concerns.

Whew

I had a long long weekend.

Yes, sure, in the "extra days off work" long way, but also in the "that was tough" way.

And I feel like I've said that a lot recently about weeks and weekends and how they've been tough and long and well, I guess that's just how things are right now.

My stress ran me into the ground this week end I was run down all week and ended up with a nasty cold this weekend.

I guess I'm glad I had the time off work to rest and recover but it also wasn't fun. C-Dawg and I had a plethora of plans in the works and they got shortened and postponed because I couldn't do much.

I had a good couple of walks in the sun and a cool photo taking experience but come Sunday morning I was absolutely done in.

The kind of done where I couldn't do anything more than lie on my couch and sniffle and sneeze and feel awful.

Spent most of the morning catching up on the second season of one of my favourite shows, Parenthood.

Didn't even know there was a second season, so I was happy to find it.

Six episodes in I stopped.

Realized I was all alone on Easter Sunday. Not by design, a bit by choice (I didn't have the energy to visit with family and didn't want anyone exposed to my cold) but it was the first time ever I hadn't been with family on Easter and it hit me hard.

Do you ever get like that when you have a terrible cold? Everything just hits you harder?

C-Dawg was at home missing her new boyfriend and I was at home single and alone.

They're two different things you know, and the alone part is much much harder.

It didn't help, I suppose, seeing this amazing tv family all perfectly imperfect and everyone so close. So much togetherness and I was very much sitting sick at home on a holiday weekend on my own, and it felt like with my Dad's health issues and their inevitable aging and just the reality that when it comes right down to it being single means being alone and maybe that's my reality this go round.

So I cried.

A lot.

Swollen shut eyes kind of crying.

Called people and cried.

Talked to my parents, my brother, C-Dawg.

Did it help?

It must have, but it didn't feel like it at the time, just felt like I had taken a drop of sadness out of what feels like a gigantic ocean's worth.

Which I suppose is what mourning and loss feels like at first.

Knowing that this weekend was a bottom, a low and that even yesterday things were lighter.

Having my cold start improving and spending the day running silly errands with C-Dawg, eating ice cream and buying new lenses for my camera and taking care of me and being with someone instead of being alone.

It helped.

But man that was a long weekend. Disappointing and hurtful and sad and lonely. But good too.

A better day yesterday and looking forward to good things that are most probably just around the corner.

And chocolate that didn't get eaten (how you know I'm really sick) that will be waiting for me when I get home from work today.

Boxed In

I know most everyone is struggling with our global pandemic in one way or another.  I know this, and yet, I feel alone in some of my particular struggles.

See, I've been "at home" for a while now.  And I don't just mean pandemic while, I mean years before that.  Since I got sick, which feels so strange to say "sick with anxiety".... "sick with depression"?  Since my mental health got bad enough that I was pulled from work.  Since then, I have been very much at home.

And yes, that means and meant isolating. Never really willingly - more so because that's all I had the energy for.  Or that's all that felt safe?  Or "safe" at least... I suppose.  So I have been home in a very small social box for a very long time.

Sure, I'd talk to people every day, maybe only by text, maybe a call or two.  I spend time with Jason regularly, and I'd see C-Dawg or other friends now and then but social stuff?  Not something I've been great at for a while now.  But I did get out and do things... I drove to Burning Man by myself... although that, now, it appears was nearly four years ago so who knows, but I did try.  When I could.

And I've always had appointments.  Massage, physio, acupuncture, hair cuts, dentist, counselling, doctor, whatever else I've forgotten, I had those regularly.  I'd give myself a "week off" every now and then but most of the time I'd be out several times a week, sometimes a few times a day for an appointment.  And I'd shop.  Often with Jason - he'd pick the groceries and cook and I would eat the food.  Or I'd pick something up for myself or that shampoo I needed or whatever else.  And I made sure I got my "bare minimum" exercise every day, and I'd try to get myself out of the apartment most days, but yeah, I've been home for a while, but certainly not like this.

Since whenever it was in March (third week?) that our province and country shut down, or slowed down and we were asked to stay home to keep ourselves and others safe and well... since then I've not had the same experience as the last few years.  I've had few appointments.  And the only ones I have had have been at home, via a computer screen.  And I've had food deliveries from online ordering.  So I've had maybe two "appointments" a week for several months now.  Food delivery, and a counselling video appointment.  And that's it.  I still text C-Dawg all the time and we talk regularly and she dropped off a book and cookies just before lockdown.  I do still see Jason.  For food and some company.  It's honestly the main reason I'm still eating fairly well... I order online, groceries get delivered, I take them over to his place, he cooks enough for the both of us and leftovers, we eat, I take leftovers home.. rinse and repeat.

I know, I know, he's not in my household.  I know I've been breaking the rules with that.  I know all that and the guilt and fear I feel around it is endless and often overwhelming.  And I'm sorry if that angers you or upsets you or scares you, it does all the same to me but still.... I did it.  I'm sorry.

But honestly, other than driving myself over to his house?  I'm having an extremely hard time getting myself out of my apartment.  At all.

There are some days where the only reason I leave my front door is to get a "flight of stairs" on my fitbit so I can hit all my "stars" and get a virtual high five.  But even on those days I don't go outside.  I barely go outside.  I'm proud of myself if I go for a walk outside once a week.  And fuck me does that suck.

When I go to Jason's there is a back yard and I am outside, so it's not as if I never get fresh air, but it's different, at least in my mind when I go from my inside box to his fenced yard box and back.  It feels... well it feels like I'm terrified.  Which at least a part of me is.

I am finding it incredibly difficult to get outside and around my neighbourhood for walks and exercise.  And it freaks me out.

I see lots of people, or, ok, I don't know how many but it feels like "everyone except me" (which it probably isn't) out and about doing things.  I know people haven't stopped shopping.  C-Dawg and Jason both talk to me about their grocery adventures... where they go, how busy it was, and I know C-Dawg shops for her folks and in laws and, well, my folks are doing online groceries as well, so... yeah.  Sigh.  But I feel like I have, in my attempt to be well and stay healthy, I feel like I have boxed myself in extra extra tight to a box that was already fairly enclosed.

And as my psychologist said, I was just starting to get out there again... I was just starting to get back to the gym and socializing a bit more and now... this.

I am scared.  I really am.  Not just about getting sick, but about getting stuck in here.  About how to motivate myself when I was already struggling with motivation and now there's this perceived, invisible risk out there... everywhere.

I've read a few things about how this particular situation is so hard on humans because of that invisible nature of the virus.  Something something neuroscience and wiring and this is not good for us.  Especially with absolutely no end in sight.  And yes, I hear the talk that this may be "years" and I just... don't know.  I do not know how to mitigate my risk and my fear.

I do not know how to motivate myself to DO ALL THE THINGS when all the things feel literally unsafe.  I mean they always used to feel overwhelming and like... a lot, but now they feel... deadly.  But people are still doing things.  They are.  And I judge them at times.  But they are out and about and shopping and visiting and exercising and doing all sorts of things and I am not.

I am stuck in this box and I am afraid of never feeling safe enough to get out but I am also afraid of getting out and I know there is a lot of this in my head and, well, good thing I have one of those video counselling sessions tomorrow to talk about it eh?

Sigh.

This is just hard.  And I'm scared.  And scared.  And struggling.  And I'm torn.  Torn between something that feels both safe and not ok.  Less likely to catch the virus if I never leave my box, but it's no way to live being stuck inside a shrinking box. 

And Downs

I had kind of a rough Sunday.

Which was too bad, because I'd had a great Saturday full of activities and fun and sunshine and friends and good food and glimpses of cute men.

I woke up on Sunday sad and heavy. Wanting to cry. Incredibly lonely.

I had an email from C-Dawg telling me she'd had a great night the night before, that she and her husband were starting to make good friends and while I was happy for her, genuinely, it made me sad.

Sad in a way that I couldn't figure out at first. So I chatted with her a bit, those weirdly silent tears sneaking out of my eyes for the entire conversation and then I went for a walk. Walked in the sunshine down to the post office to mail her off a care package; neither the first nor the last that's been sent her way.

I realized, at some point during my wander, that it felt like finding out an ex-boyfriend was dating again. This feeling of knowing C is starting to make friends while I'm still feeling lost and lonely and like a third-wheel of my lovely, but coupled friends.

So it's good, in a way, to know that the deep, heavy hurt I was feeling this morning is more about being single and lonely and maybe a little bit about being left behind, but I reminded myself that my friendship with C-Dawg is not like a relationship with an ex-boyfriend. C and I haven't ended anything, we'll always have our friendship, it's just that right now, we can't spend time together. I'll get to see her soon, in a few months and who knows, maybe some day (oh soon, please) she'll move back here and this will all just be something we went through, something we survived.

So, yes, I miss C, and I miss having her here in town just as much as I thought I would.

But I also miss having a boyfriend and all the things that go along with that and having C-Dawg gone makes that all the more apparent, because when she was here, being single wasn't quite as lonely as it is right now. It's easier for the smallest things to tip me into sadness these days.

I'm feeling better now; my Sunday mellowed out and up as it progressed. This week should be a busy one, which, while I'm not looking forward to it, I'm hoping will distract me from things.

But until then, I'll let myself cry if I need to. I promise.

Uh...

So I totally had a post or two in my brain to write and since I've just sat down to write them... of course they're gone... Sigh.

So here's a random update instead!

I bawled my eyes out at the final episode of The O.C. last night.  Yes, that O.C.  I was watching it again as a mind mellowing zone out show and, well, the last episode of any series usually gets me because I know the actors were probably crying and upset about it all too.  But, yeah, tears.

I've managed to make "pan" popcorn a few times now, it was much easier than I thought.  It's not completely flavourless, but it's not... you know, butter and salty either.  A decent compromise?  We shall see.

Still hanging in at Boot Camp, figure I'm getting stronger because I'm up a couple of hand weight weights and don't seem to be dying although I am trying hard.  I never want to go though.  It's not as if the day of Boot Camp I'm like yay!  Well, sometimes I am, but then by the end of the day I do not want to go.  This is why it's good for me to have a buddy to go with.  I wouldn't be going if C-Dawg weren't going too.

Did I mention C-Dawg got engaged?  I can't remember.  But she did.  They did.  Summer wedding!  She's promised no high heels.  Amen.

Also, C-Dawg's flu shot didn't hurt her at all.  Crazy... but at least now I have some idea why!  Lucky dawg.  (Heh... I made a funny.)

Our town's mini cold snap is over, a co-worker and his wife had a baby, I keep thinking about Jay lately (it's about a year since we broke up for the final time), and trying to keep myself from worrying about how Burning Man will all work out this year.  Things are pretty decent with Jason and I right now, we seem to have made it through another really bad patch.  Facebook is still the devil's work...  Christmas lights are springing up all over... time for me to stay out of the malls.

But, as someone pointed out, it's not too long before the days, techinically, start getting longer again.  Yay!

Oh, and I upgraded to Yosemite and am trying to figure that all out, plus my sonicare needs recharging every couple of days now and I can't really afford a replacement right now so I'm just putting up with more regular recharging.

Finally (I think) energy wise, I realized I'd not been consistent with taking my B12 (I have droplets, the shots hurt too much and the vitamins disagree with me) and I've been taking that daily and I really think it has helped my energy and maybe even my mood.  Plus, I'd not been doing my mindfulness/meditation and I got myself back on track with that this week and while I do think it helps I can't find anything it makes worse other than taking twenty minutes of my time to do.

So

Learning to run.

How to describe what it's like learning to run.

It's funny, because it's not like you actually have to *learn* to run. I mean, we all ran as kids, right? And I know running was fun. Running to your friend's house, running through the sprinkler, running along the beach to jump into a wave, all fun, easy, accompanied by laughter.

I ran when I was in elementary school. Sprints. Seem to remember I was pretty fast, but who knows how objective those memories are. I also remember feeling like I was flying when we would jump off a hill at the side of the elementary school. I went back a few years to visit the school and the huge hill? Was more of a mound. So maybe I was fast, maybe not, but I liked running when I was a kid.

I didn't run in high school. Puberty hit and my body changed and all of a sudden things jiggled and I felt heavy in my own body and running wasn't as free and fun anymore. I still ran, but as part of the sports I was involved in, and truth be told, I was usually a forward on most of the teams I was on so I didn't have to do as much running as some. (Hello, I can make three pointers, so I'll just hang out on this side of the court and you bring the ball to me, kay? Yeah, ask me how much my coach liked that attitude. Can you say benched my lazy butt?)

I've always stayed physically active, and up until a year and a half ago, the gym was a highly regular part of my week.

Then I was in a car accident and had to scale back. Significantly. Had to balance my want to be active with my body's need to recover. Had to deal with the frustration of losing strength and muscle and fitness with allowing myself to heal. Had to deal with a lot of pain. Had to re-learn how to be gentle with myself in so many ways. But through it all, I was determined to stay fit and active.

January saw me starting my daily exercise (with the "even if it's only a fifteen minute walk around the block" mantra helping me get out on those days when I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch after a tough day of spy work) and April had me walking my way through a 10k.

Then C-Dawg signed up for a learn to run clinic. "I want to get fit" she said. Knowing that C-Dawg had been hurt worse than I was in the accident and figuring if she was brave enough to try it I could too, I signed up.

And three weeks ago, I showed up at my first Beginners Run clinic.

I'd asked S if she'd go with me, because lord knows I'd never have shown up if I hadn't had someone going with me, and thank goodness she said yes because walking in that door the first night was so intimidating we both nearly turned around and walked back out.

There are a ton of different ways to start running, but the majority of them, if not all of them, have you starting out with a short "run" followed by a walk. (I put run in quotations because it's not like you have to go fast. You just go the speed you can, and our leader suggests we go at a speed that allows us to chat with the person we're next to, so for some of us coughmecough, it's actually slower to run than to walk. Go figure.)

You then repeat this run/walk series a certain number of times and then you stretch, celebrate your survival and go home. (Where I stretch some more, with my physio directed accident recovery stretches before jumping in the shower and feeling proud of myself for doing it.)

So how is it?

It's hard.

I think it's difficult for everyone, but talking with S and C-Dawg about their experiences with it, it's hard for them in different ways than it is for me.

For me, the first few times I hated how my body felt. Strangely enough, it made me feel like I was huge and heavy. Something about the thudding of my body over and over as my feet pounded the pavement and things jiggled and bounced made me feel fat. Which I know I'm not, but it still felt like it.

And the first week, things hurt. Muscles and tendons and whatnots all hurt and I wondered if maybe this was too much to ask my body to do.

They ask you to do two "homework" runs throughout the week before the next clinic and I wasn't sure I'd bother, but one of the ladies who'd done the clinic before told me it really really made a difference if you did them, so I did them that first week and weirdly enough? My body hurt less after the second run and less again after the third. (Epsom salts and careful stretching also played a part in that though.)

I went into the next week wondering how I'd make it through the increase in run time, but I did and I was super stoked. It feels amazing to do something physical that you didn't think you'd be able to do. Run for two minutes eight times with only a minute's break in between? No way I can do that. But it turns out I can.

And I can even run for three minutes in a row with only a minute's rest in between.

Is it easy? Getting easier?

No.

Things don't hurt as much as they did that first time (knock on wood so as not to jinx anything) but man do I feel un-fit.

I'm huffing and puffing by the last repetition of run/walk and my feet are shuffling and honestly, it'd be faster, many times faster, if I'd just stop "running" and walk, and I hate it while I'm doing it. It's a constant feeling of "no way I'm going to be able to do this and how many more times?" But I stubborn my way through it. Sometimes it's pure willpower and sometimes it's "well, C-Dawg wouldn't give up if she were here" and sometimes it's just that I'd feel awful if I quit on it, but man it's hard. And it doesn't feel good. The running. Not at all.

I know a lot of people who run and love it. They love how it feels and how their body feels and how it's like flying.

For me it just feels bad and every time I'm doing it it feels bad. And I feel unfit.

But once I'm done? I feel great. Endorphin frigging heaven and then I stretch and shower and I'm the happiest person out there.

Happy and proud of myself which feels even better. Happy and proud of myself because damnit I did something I hate and it felt awful but I finished it and I'm so proud of myself for that.

But I don't look forward to it.

The clinic night are interesting because I look forward to seeing S and chatting with her makes things go faster but I still don't enjoy it. I don't know if I'd do a clinic again, because I feel like the loser of the group; everyone else is fitter than I am and it feels like everyone else has done the clinic before so they're not worried about next week, and oh crap now they're doubling back to pick me up because I'm that far behind the rest of them, I'm that slow. So the clinics are difficult in that they make me feel like I'm losing and the competitor in me hates that feeling. But there's something about having committed to and having paid for the group that makes it something I'd do again. And the leader is awesome. I kind of want to cry when I think about how encouraging she is and how she always seems to say the right thing when I'm struggling or scared or whatever it is.

She tells me I'm a runner.

She tells me I'm faster than all those people who're at home on their couches watching tv. And I have to remember that because on clinic night I always feel like I'm slower than everyone there. So I'll have to remind myself that I may be slower than the people who've come out to a beginner run clinic but I'm way faster than all the people who didn't.

I don't know if I can make it through this week's run. I may have to tell S to go on ahead without me. (In my head, I'll be picturing a dramatic scene from a movie where I tell her to go on ahead without me, knowing that once she leaves, I'll die from. . . the zombies or the freezing weather or the....typhoid or whatever it is, because in my head things are way more fun.) I may have to just suck it up and accept that I'm the slowest and the least fit and if they all glare at me and roll their eyes at me for being slow (except they wouldn't do that, that's also in my head. Sometimes it's fun in my head, sometimes it's crazy.) at least I'm doing it and only I know how frigging hard it is for me.

Nutshell? I don't enjoy the sensation or the show-me-how-unfit-I-am-ness of learning to run, or beginner running or run/walking or whatever you want to call it. I don't enjoy it while I'm doing it at all. Every time I'm doing it I think "man, I should totally blog about how much this sucks and how much I hate it and how awful I feel." But you guys? I'm so so proud of myself and so far, every week I've been blown away that I managed to do it again. That I've managed to add another minute on to the length of time I can run in a row. You guys, I can run for three minutes in a row. Three! It's frigging awesome. It makes me happy to know how far I've come and while my head tells me I may never make it through this week or next, I also know how good I feel after accomplishing each run/walk. Physically and emotionally.

So if you asked? I'd tell you it was worth it.

(Just don't ask me if it's worth it *while* I'm out there running.)

Hey

You know what I haven't done in a while?

A What Went Well post.

I figure it's about time, eh?

Let's see.  What's gone well in the last little while... a non-comprehensive and not-in any particular order except what I remember first list.  By me.

I was having a lonely day at work last week and my best friend and co-worker Dee, who is currently off on maternity leave, showed up just before lunch and it was just what I needed.  A perfectly uplifting surprise!

I remembered a secret someone told me about tulips and how to keep them upright and have had non fally-over tulips in a vase on my table ever since C-Dawg got me some for Ballytimes day.  (No, not the same ones, I've had a few!)

I re-pumped up the exercise ball I use as my chair at my table and as I was doing so I had a few hilarious mishaps that involved air escaping from various devices and a blowing out of the stopper thingamy and I was giggling to myself the entire time.

C-Dawg and I bought Just Dance for her Wii and had a hilarious time trying out a few songs. 

I had a really yummy dinner the other night.

C-Dawg and I went out for sushi the other day and I tried something new (for me) and it was soooooo good.

The sunny days we've had have been gorgeous.

I'm enjoying the book I'm reading (or will probably be done by the time this post publishes) and I enjoyed the last one too.

I'm feeling really good right this moment, and that's a great thing to feel!

The Road

I was on the road, and really, really not sure what I was doing.

Or if it was smart.

I kept saying to myself that I was glad it was pouring rain, because that meant I really had to pay attention to the road, so it made it harder to listen to the thoughts racing around in my brain.  But, man, I was tense.


And nervous and wondering what I was doing.

I got to the ferries just in time and sat in the ferry lineup and actually started crying.

I was crying because I was so .... freaked out, but also because I was so proud of myself.

I was proud of myself for not giving in to the bullying my brain always seems to do, and just taking a breath and jumping.

I knew that if I made it, and it all worked out ok, I would be more likely to do something like this again in the future.

And I don't even mean so much the meeting a... pretty much stranger, in a strange place, I mean just the logistics.  Driving to a place I didn't know, meeting someone new, pushing myself way outside of my safe comfort zone.

I remember C-Dawg telling me as much the week before.  Jay had suggested that maybe we could find somewhere to go camping the weekend he was back and I was freaking out to C-Dawg about how he didn't know I don't just... pick up and do things, that I need to plan and figure out and attempt to chill, and C-Dawg told me that she thought I should just pick up and go camp with him.

"This hasn't been a normal courtship in any way, Victoria.  I think you need to just go, be out of your comfort zone here."

Maybe it was partly those words that pushed me, but I messaged Jay from the ferry.

"On the 7."

"You're nearly here!" he messaged back.

I smiled.

The drive there was short, thankfully, and GPSes are wonderful things.  Still, I was nervous as I pulled into the driveway.

Was this the right house?  What would it be like to see him?  What if it wasn't the right house?  Where should I park?  Should I pretend I changed my mind and just go back home?

"I think I'm here."  I messaged him, sitting in my car, my front door open, not really ready or able to step out, just staring at the screen of my phone, wondering what on earth I was doing there.

And then, suddenly, I heard his voice.

"You're here!"

And, there he was.





I didn't want to get out of my car.

I just looked up at him, his smiling face, that I'd come to know so well via video, right there in front of me, smiling back at my cheesy grin.

But I still didn't... (couldn't?) move.

"You can... park over there." he said, motioning.

"Where?  Ok.." I said, dazed, shaking all over.

"But wait... can you get out for just a minute first?"

I nodded, put my phone down, took a step out of the car and threw my arms around him.

And we just stood there, hugging.  Finally in the same space.  Finally meeting.

I just wanted to hold him, and feel his arms around me.

Somehow, I was there.  And he was there.

We'd made it.