A little grace.

Well…I made it through the holiday season; I think I kept my grinch held to a minimum but only just. People forget sometimes that just because a person is happy and friendly, it doesn’t necessarily mean they enjoy the holidays. I used to, and I am slowly getting back to it, but I’m not there yet. Maybe next year.

Anyways, I ended the year seeing my therapist. I wasn’t really talking about anything in particular. I took those cutting words from that awful person and reclaimed them. What I mean is, they have no idea who I am, what we went through, and they certainly don’t know anything about the state of my relationship with Kevin. Their callousness is a reflection of who they are, not me. It was empowering taking that back. But it didn’t quite hit me that way until I was on a run.

I’ve mentioned I’ve been doing the gym thing as a means to help with the anxiety and it also helps me sleep a little better, occasionally. I also just want to feel better physically, so I’ve been setting little goals throughout the year, just to keep up my motivation. The biggest one I had set for myself, was to break 60 minutes running 5 miles. And I finally did!

This run came after a trying day, a couple of them, actually. I was still finding my footing after what that person said; I’d had a few angry encounters at work, justifiably so, but it’s still trying being on the receiving end of someone’s ire when all you’re trying to do is help.

Initially, I didn’t even want to go to the gym; the holidays had been keeping my mood muted and my interests and things I had been doing took a hit. But I told myself I needed to go; that I feel better when I do. That I just had to walk in the door and get started. And I compromised with myself, too; just run for 20 minutes and then call it if you want. But do something, get out of this rut.

So that’s what I did. My playlist was hitting tunes with enough energy to keep me going. I noticed that I passed the two-and-a-half-mile mark in just under 30 minutes, and I was still hitting my stride. I kept going.

I started struggling as I neared the four-mile mark, but I told myself to keep going. I could do this. I had already run 5 miles before when I thought I couldn’t make it. And then, then I really started to own those thoughts. To take pride in them and let them become a part of my being. And they kept coming.

So when my breathing started to come rougher and my legs started to burn, I kept up my silent pep talk.

Look at how far you’ve come. You can break that 60 minutes and keep going, if you wanted. Look what you’ve overcome. Look at how much stronger you are. You keep setting these goals and then seeing it through, this is just the next on the list.

And when I hit 5 miles and checked my time, to see that I had met the goal I wanted, I started crying. Not recommended by the way, especially if you still have 5 minutes and 15 something seconds to go before your run and cool down are complete. So I pulled it back a bit. But I had done it. And I remembered reading about something related to trauma that I understood but didn’t really absorb until then.

What I read said the one thing people who’ve been through a trauma want is to go back to the way things were before it happened, but that it wasn’t possible return to that. And when I really started thinking about it, I realized, that while I miss the way things were before the accident, I wouldn’t want to go back to who I was then.

I am a better person now, stronger.

I set boundaries.

I’m patient with myself.

I take better care of my mental health now.

And most importantly, I give myself a little grace. A little leeway to crumble when days are hard and then a little more when it takes a minute to get back up. This version of me is probably the best yet. This is the version of me who knows her imperfections are living reminders of her experiences and loves herself anyways.