I looked at the clock...3:11am, great, a whole 8 minutes after I looked the last time. I climbed out of bed and pulled on my sweat pants, running bra, three layers on top. I take the walk up the cold wooden stairs, lace up my sneakers and head out the door. At this point it is automatic. I am glad it is early, my schedule says 7 miles, I will be able to run longer though....maybe 9 before I have to get to work to teach the boot camp class at 6am.
Running has become my best friend. I devour books, magazines, training logs. I am engulfed with the discipline. I am dedicated, driven, obsessed and addicted. The feeling is all too familiar. How did I get here? Flashbacks of my anorexia years haunt me. Am I running away from myself? Or am I running to find myself... I knew I needed help.
I was standing in the kitchen with my oldest daughter. After a semester of tears, depression and anxiety, we had taken her out of high school. Remove her from the atmosphere that was slowly destroying her and taking her spirit. There it was, the voice, the tone, the terror. I had heard it many times. Making me feel sick to my stomach and making me want to disappear. Only this time it was not directed at me. It was directed at her.
That was the moment. Fish or cut bait...I filed for divorce the following day.
Scared, frightened, disappointed, ashamed, guilty...out the door I would go, running again...using it to escape. Masking my emotions, my anger, my hurt. Day after day...mile after mile...
I was drinking to help me sleep. Weight was falling off me. This is awesome I am thinking to myself. Isn't that what we all want? To be skinnier? Co-workers and friends expressed thier concern. I just thought they were jealous because I was thin now...so proud of myself.
3 miles turned into 6-8-10. My body always in pain. A glass of wine, or 2 or 3. There. Now I feel better. I close my eyes...sleep, ahhh...finally.
Day after day, week after week, month after month. More and more exersice. I was lost. I was depressed. My daughters needed thier mother back.
Asking for help takes courage and strength. It is not a sign of weakness. With the love and support of friends, I began to find my way back to myself. I asked for help.
When you find yourself in a hole, that either you can't get out of, or maybe dont want to get out of, find the strength to ask for help. This life is to be lived with joy, purpose, passion and love. We all have our own unique talents and experiences to bring to each other. Let your friends and family be blessed with all of you. Pull yourself out of the hole. There is always someone who will be willing throw you a rope, but they can't pull you out unless you are ready.
The strength is within all of us...ask and it will be given to you, seek and you shall find...