Running helps me

My depression and anxiety have been really annoying lately. I had a shaking anxiety attack that left me completely exhausted. My depression has been rather unkind in making me feel ‘not enough’ lately. It is tiring.

My running has taken a huge hit lately. I had intense hip pain that spread into my pubic bone. Stretching, ibuprofen, and Epsom salt baths were not helping at all. My runs were reduced to the minimum of 1 mile per day due to my reluctance to stop the running streak I started on Memorial Day. The runs became slow and were often more of a quick walk. Running is my outlet for my days spent “momming.” I listen to music, pray, and/or sometimes just relish in the fact that I’m not in the heavy air of conflict (with 2 kids 18 months apart and a teenager).  The mile breaks weren’t enough. I physically needed the rest, but I also mentally needed the outlet.

I visited the chiropractor, who needed to adjust my hips and the left side of my pubic bone. My husband encouraged me to go to a fun run that involved a visit to a brewery afterward for a social. I guess I’m a little insufferable when husband says: “get out of here awhile.” I went and planned to plod through my mile, and go have a beer and chat with other people who enjoy running that I don’t see as often as I used to.

I met up with people I hadn’t run with in awhile and they were doing run/walk intervals. I had such a good time talking to them and spending time out on the trail, I went 3 miles with just a little soreness and not the same pain I’d been having. It was a relief. Then, I got to talk to even more people after at the social. I actually stayed awhile and really enjoyed myself catching up with people and talking.

I had one more adjustment at the chiropractor to get the hip pain under control. I invited friends to join me at a pop up yoga class at a local brewery Saturday morning. The yoga instructor worked on hips at the request of a few people including me. It wound up being hot yoga because it was already in the 80’s and humid at 10 am. I think the session really helped my hips.

This weekend, I intended to knock out some miles to ensure I’d be ready for the 4th of July race that is 5 miles. Saturday night, my stomach wouldn’t behave and I had to stop in at my house at 3/4 of a mile to use the restroom. I made it another 3/4 of a mile before I had to go back home for the same reason. Sunday, I planned a visit to the gym. My stomach wasn’t agreeing with my plans. I took a nap and didn’t wake up until the evening when it was time to leave for our 5 pm service at church. While we were at church, a storm rolled in and the temperature dropped dramatically. After dinner, I was able to change into running gear and head out on a 3 mile run. It was still hot. The humidity was still there. I enjoyed it, though. I felt myself going faster than I had been. I glanced at my watch and saw the distance just pass by. I stopped running at the 3 mile mark and walked the remaining 1/2 mile home as a cool down. I took it all in. Finally. I got a run in.

I was exhausted after I did my hip exercises and stretches. I sat on the floor in my room and drank my electrolytes and played on my phone instead of hopping up to take a shower. It was tiring, after all.


Almost a grin. I’m pleased with myself.

My running doesn’t miraculously heal my depression or my anxiety. I’ll admit that I’ve wanted it to. I thought if I could just go further, faster, or better that I’d be healed. While that’s not the case for me, it dramatically reduces the intensity of the symptoms.


I wanted to go 3, but was happy with my 1.5 miles.

Do you feel like fitness helps you in another aspect of your life? Does it help your mental health?

Thanks for reading! I try to come back weekly with updates for you.

So critical

Yesterday was amazing! Some running friends invited me to fill in for one of their marathon relay teammates at the Illinois Marathon in Champaign. The weather was perfect for running. The people on my team were awesome!

Then, there was me. I’m still not back to being at the speed I wanted to be by now. I was running the last leg because it was the shortest distance of the relay, but I was going to kill their time by being so slow. I set my watch for intervals of 10 minutes running and 1 minute walking. The crowd was amazing! There were people lined along the route cheering. There were runners around me who were encouraging.

I kept having to tell myself that many of these people had run over 20 miles already that morning and I had so much less than that. I reassured myself that my teammates told me to run for fun and not worry about time. I looked at my watch as my pace slowed. I winced as my shins felt each foot strike on the ground. I stopped looking at my watch and started listening to the music coming through my headphones. I waved and smiled at each spectator as I passed them. I thanked people for encouragement. I got a little faster and felt a little more confidence. I followed my intervals and I finally met up with two of my teammates at mile 26 as we went to run into the the stadium together. At first, I didn’t feel like I could catch up with them a few steps ahead of me. We hit the turf for the field and the final stretch and I felt weightless running in. We finished together and got our medals. I even felt a renewed confidence that I could actually run another marathon one day despite my Chicago race. 

When I finally had a chance to look at the race photos, this one was in there:



I see every fat roll in my shirt, in my pants, and all of my chins. I see a fat person. I was sad and upset to see this version of me.

I had worked so hard in 2016 to accomplish my marathon goal and I’d been in amazing shape. I haven’t gotten that back since the injury and I want it badly. I feel completely drained most of the time. I showed the photo to my husband and told him that I hope this makes a good ‘before’ picture and that I don’t keep getting fatter. I honestly feel like I work harder than what shows on my body and trying isn’t good enough.

Things have been hard. I don’t want to look like this. I wish the effort I’d put into it was reflected on my appearance.

I’d like to be positive when I write here. Being under constant stress and feeling exhausted all of the time really shows on my body. I wish I had the answers that would make me not carry the weight of the depression and stress. I wish I wasn’t such a harsh critic of myself, but the truth is, I see and I judge myself more harshly than anyone else would think.

I am aware there isn’t a magic pill and I’m not looking for one. I’m not interested in buying the “latest and greatest” program. I’m not looking to buy anything.

Have you ever seen a photo of yourself that just floored you? Do you have comments or suggestions? Please let me know!



A little longer

I saw the podiatrist today for my 3 week checkup since the cast and boot were put on. While most of the pain in the highest area of concern is gone, there is still a bit of pain with rotation and pressure on the tendons. So, he said he’ll look again in 2 weeks. At that time, I should be able to get fitted for an ankle brace I’ll have to wear all of the time. I’ll also need physical therapy and to be weaned off of using the boot to get around.

I made sure that my use of the machines at the gym wasn’t a problem. I told him that I get some looks when I do abduction exercises. He said that my upper body workouts and my hip workouts are fine as long as I’m not using my leg to operate the weights or doing standing exercises. These are the same as the last time I saw him, but I wanted to touch base and make sure I was on the right track. I also wasn’t sore after my upper body workout Monday. Yay!

I sold a race entry to a friend and transferred it officially through the race director. Now my next race is in June. I still intend to be in shape for a marathon by October.

I’ve been a little better with my depression issues I was having. I spoke with  the doctor [nurse practitioner] and we’ve adjusted my medicine in hopes that things will look up. I had a rough couple of days this week, but I’m handling it. Being a mom is hard work and often emotionally draining. I’m still here, though. Like the workouts I have in the gym [and again out on the running course soon], I’m stronger from what I endure. Things might push me to be upset and to quietly contemplate how I got here and how I plan to continue, but I can’t be kept down for long. I refuse to let myself do that.

I know it all sounds so much more positive than the last time I wrote. That’s a good thing. Something to remember is that we can’t all be positive all of the time, but when I try to be positive, I hope to influence others who aren’t quite feeling themselves and need a little light. I want to offer what I can and I lose nothing by using my flame to light another candle. I’m not all the way back from the dark, but that’s ok. I still have some light to share.

Please consider giving to my fundraising page for Crohn’s and Colitis. I’m at $441 of my $2k goal. I’m still very excited to be part of a fundraising team running in the Chicago Marathon this October. The Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation is doing great things to help people with IBD. If you have a chance, check out their website, too. Here is my fundraising page link: Any donations are greatly appreciated.

If you just want to read about IBD, this is their page:


Cranky boot

*In the past, I’ve chosen to be reserved and leave out any colorful language. That’s not who I really am. So, I’m going to try to write how I would actually say things.

I have been in a cast and boot one day short of two weeks. I haven’t run since February 19th and I miss it like crazy. Not only that, but this boot thing is bullshit. Not in the sense that it isn’t real science or serves no medical need. I’m sure it is legit. I just hate it. It could be that I’m more irritable lately. That could be because I can’t go for a run.

I’ve been to the gym a few times to lift weights that work my upper body. I even used the machines that could be operated with my legs without bearing weight on them. I’ve used my dumbbells at home, too. I have been doing knee planks, bicycle crunches and some other core work daily just to try to ‘stay healthy’. I’ve tried to keep my focus positive. I’ve got to say that I still don’t feel that great. I don’t seem to want to eat well and I just generally feel tired.

Compound my recent health woes with the fact that I feel a little trapped at home by the boot being on my right leg and having to change it every time I drive, and I’m suffering a little. I feel the ubiquitous surge of depression nagging. That voice in my head that says things will always be one difficult thing after another, which equals up to nothing of value. The voice that tells me that I’ve already failed at so much in life, that I really don’t deserve good things to happen. That voice that is still me, but so mean to me. No matter how hard I try to create things or to make an impact, I’m still not doing it right and I never will. I’m not particularly good at anything and I have nothing which sets me apart from anyone else. Disposable. That voice is a real bitch if you ask me, but it still hurts my feelings and I struggle against it like I’m swimming upstream. I’m never quite adequate and I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m usually okay with not being perfect, but when the darkness sets in, the mean voice is louder and it quiets my confidence.

My confident voice, the one that is sure I can do anything I put my mind to, is little more than a whisper. I don’t try to shut that out because I sincerely hope it comes back to being the loudest. Depression ebbs and flows. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this recurrence, just like I never know how long it’ll hide in remission. I’m used to neatly tucking it away when it comes around. I’m used to the irritability it causes me and the feelings that nothing matters and everything matters all at once.

I’m used to people who don’t suffer from mental illness trying to tell me that there are others who have it worse. I know and I feel bad that I can’t handle my much smaller load of life. Actually, worse after you mention that I’m not dealing with my shit as well as people who have it worse. Thanks, though.

Yes, I have a doctor. Yes, I take medication. I also typically work out for it, but that’s temporarily limited to what I’m able to do at the moment without disturbing my healing or further injuring myself. I mean, I am actually trying and I don’t expect a cookie or anything. I just wish it wouldn’t rear its ugly head while I’m already working hard to overcome this injury. It could’ve picked a better time.

Anyway, I put little sticky jewels on my boot. It amused me a little.



Blog 19 January 2017

I sat here in front of my laptop for awhile trying to come up with a title and I just can’t. My mind is mush. I am trying to just make heads or tails of what exactly I’m supposed to do to make things less difficult. I’m exhausted. I need to get in my workouts. I can’t get much out of them when I’m exhausted. So goes the cycle.

I went for a run over the weekend and I went back home after getting to the top of my street because I needed something to cover my face from the air. I got that and I left the house again. I ran a different direction and started mentally planning my route. I saw a thick patch of ice coming from a yard onto the sidewalk, so I ran a little into the grass. My shoe was sucked off of my foot into the muddy grass. I tried to hop back, but I can’t actually hop on my ‘bad ankle’ on an uneven surface without some pain. So I walked to my shoe and slid it back on. I saw that two kids on bikes were watching me, so I mumbled “what a day,” and continued my run. Needing to pause to walk a few times and feeling like I wasn’t quite loosening up to run made me decide to take the turn toward home instead of the trail. I was mad that I didn’t finish the run. I’d gone a little over 1.25 mile. I was thinking about just quitting running altogether. I even tried to think of ways I could get out of the marathon I’d signed up for in October.

The kids were home Monday, so I didn’t get to the gym until Tuesday. I walked in and started up the treadmill. I had a wrap on my ankle and the part around my foot was slightly uncomfortable, so I paused the machine and I went to take my shoe off. I pulled the emergency thing that made the program completely stop. Ugh. I got back on and reset the program, but my hips, knees, and ankles were all hurting with each stride even when I slowed to a jog. I changed the program again. I tried to go on a low setting for difficulty and I walked the first minute before picking up to a jog. I just couldn’t get my cadence down and I felt like I was just stomping on the belt. I reset the machine and walked to a stationary bike and rode for 20 minutes of the 30 minute session I programmed. I just wasn’t feeling it, so I walked around the weight area looking around at the machines and trying to decide on what to do. I did a weighted crunch machine and decided my body wasn’t into it. I changed and went home slightly bummed out that I had 2 bad workouts in a row.

Home life last night was extremely difficult to deal with. I have a teenager with bipolar disorder and she was in a volatile mood. We have a brand new hole kicked into one of our walls courtesy of that rage. I wish I could go into it more because I’m sure there are people out there who have been through or are going through this, but I just can’t. We’ll be visiting a mental health professional today. I’ve discussed appropriate behavior with my younger children (4 and 6 years old) who were here to witness it all. My husband missed his group training run for his first half marathon, which I felt bad for him. He was able to wake early today and run, which I’m glad he was able to do.

I feel like I should have some positive note to go on with this. I didn’t quit running. I plan to try to run sometime today if I get time. I’m going to try to slowly increase my outdoor runs distances for now so I can at least run a 10k by April for a challenge I’m signed up for to run a 5k one day and a 10k the next as part of a challenge. I want to run a marathon this October and I want it to be Chicago like I’d planned. I started making handmade crafts and plans for some fundraiser events. I’m nervous that I won’t raise enough money, but I am going to keep pushing forward.

I’m going to try to make things happen so that I have more positive news for you next time I write. I hope the January freeze doesn’t have you too affected in your mood or your workouts. If you want to donate to my fundraising page for running the Chicago Marathon to support Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America, my link is:

Thanks for reading!!!


I made these wine bottle decorations just slip onto the bottle neck to give it personality and style!

Drawing in positive

I can hardly believe it, but this is week 15 of the 16 week marathon training program. I’ve persisted, practiced, and pushed my way to train for something that I’m just so happy to be able to do. I’m going to run my first marathon. At the start of training, I’d said it would be my only. Now, I’m already thinking that I know this isn’t the last. I also went and got pink hair last week and I love it.




I’m not suddenly healed of my depression. Working out hasn’t taken away my need to have daily medication. I still have anxiety, too. When I run, some of that goes away and I can clear my mind. It also shows me that I have something to be proud of and goals to strive for giving me a reason to live sometimes when I just don’t want to. The darkness sometimes envelops me more than I care for it to. I just try not to embrace it too much and look to my goals. My running friends also help me look forward to the long runs and things we can talk about or experience together during the journey. I’m thankful for them and for the time we have together. I get to go out and run.

I’m also thankful that I have a husband who is supportive and encouraging. I’m not always confident in my abilities. Considering the things that he and I go through as adults and as parents, it has been a blessing to have him to talk to and to lean on. My mom might not speak to me for whatever reason. My kids might say hurtful things when they don’t get their way. My husband is there with unconditional love to give freely, which is important to have when the depression hits and I don’t exactly feel loved or lovable.

All negativity aside because I’m about to accomplish something that I couldn’t do when I signed up to do it. I have trained and conditioned myself to do this and I am as physically prepared as I’m going to be. Mental strength will go a long way in getting to the finish line. Yesterday, I started seeking out inspirational quotes to help me during the 26.2 mile run November 5th. Many of the quotes didn’t have sources, but I’ll try to give credit where due. So here we go!

  • There is no telling how many miles you will have to run while chasing a dream.
  • Philippians 4:13 – I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength
  • Let Go, Let God
  • The race always hurts. Expect it to hurt. You didn’t train so it doesn’t hurt. You train so you can tolerate it.
  • When your legs get tired, run with heart
  • The miracle isn’t finishing. It’s that I had the courage to start.
  • She believed she could, so she did.
  • What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
  • In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take
  • Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations
  • You’re a diamond. They can’t break you.
  • Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about dancing in the rain.
  • I believe in the person I want to become
  • Remember the time you thought you could never survive? You did and you can do it again.
  • Keep going. There’s cookies at the finish.
  • Penny gets winded walking to the bathroom (seriously, my friend Penny added this to my list)
  • HOPE – Hold On Pain Ends
  • A positive attitude may not solve all of your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort (Herm Albright)
  • Psalm 4:1 – Lord, be merciful and hear my prayer
  • The thirst you feel in your throat and lungs will be gone minutes after the race is finished. The pain in your legs? Within days.  The glory of your finish is forever.
  • 26.2 = The triumph of will over reason
  • Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life a champion. -Muhammed Ali
  • Be strong. You never know who you are inspiring.
  • Today, I will be one run stronger
  • I wasn’t planning on going for a run today, but those cops came out of nowhere. (ha, ha, ha)
  • One day, I won’t be able to do this. Today is not that day.
  • Set a goal so big you can’t achieve it until you grow into the person who can. *This one really struck a chord with me.
  • Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up. (Dean Karnazes)
  • You’re not dead yet, you can’t quit. (Kyle Maynard)


That’s just a portion of the encouragement I found yesterday. I will still be looking and still be repeating the ones I’ve found. I’ll probably print some off and bring them with me to the race so I have them there.

I can’t control what others think of what I’m doing or how they view the work I’ve put into it. I can control how I feel about it and decide to be proud of my accomplishments. Today, I choose to ignore the people who think I’ve done anything but improve my character and celebrate my body. I choose to see that I’m setting an example to be healthy, strong, and resilient. I could drown in the negativity that is often tossed in my direction, but I choose to let the good and the positive pull me through and keep me afloat. I am succeeding at something and that’s going to ruffle some feathers of people who are not. It doesn’t change my success.

Thanks for reading! This weekend will be a long run of 8 miles, then on to pre race week! Wish me luck! Good luck on your endeavors and in case nobody has told you, I’m proud of your hard work! Keep it up! Every time you challenge yourself, you get a little stronger. Until you’re a lot stronger.

Here’s a picture of me after running 4 miles of speed work that I really didn’t feel like running. I’m so glad I did it anyway.


Terrible mood. Great run!


Because I can

I’m still fighting with a bout of depression that seems to nag and pull at me daily and whisper to me that I just don’t measure up. Despite its best attempts at making me feel inadequate, I continue to challenge and push myself.

Today I find myself exhausted, but accomplished. I covered more miles than my training plan prescribed because I ran to and from a meeting place one day and I put in extra miles on another so I could run with a friend. I’m at the halfway point of mentoring for the half marathon and I’m on week 4 of training for a full marathon.

This weekend, I ran a 5k race at Lake Evergreen that I ran last year as well. It was apparently the same week in my own half training because I had 4 miles to run after and so did the group training this summer. I was aware that the race had some challenges going into it and I wasn’t confident that I’d be able to reach for beating my best time of 29 minutes. Each race after the one I made that time, I’ve set out just to beat that time even if it is by a second. Saturday morning was sunny, but not too hot. The gnats were swarming around the race venue and we swatted them away as we made way to the start line. At first, nobody was lining up in front of me at the start line and I attempted to move back. A few people finally went to the front of the start and the race began with everyone taking off down the road. I tried to just remember that I could hold as close to a 9 minute pace as possible to get my best time. I spent a little time praying. There was a person that was near me in the race that seemed stressed, so I prayed for that person. I prayed for myself to have the resolve to finish and I was thankful that I was able to run and able to train for a full marathon. I started telling myself that I’m “scrappy” because I always overcome challenges. I pushed myself hard. Toward the end, I kept trying really hard to pick up my pace and it seemed like every time I looked at my watch, I wasn’t getting any faster or I wasn’t picking up as much as I needed to get the time I wanted. Toward the final stretch, my husband and my friend were shouting at me and I actually mustered up a little kick of energy to push through to the end a little faster. Some guy passed me right in the last 50 feet, but I was going my fastest. Imagine my surprise when I pulled through the finish line and saw 28:49 on the digital clock and on my watch! I didn’t place, but last year, I finished the race in 30:57. I beat my best time and I killed my time from last year by over 2 minutes. Scrappy…lol. I ran 4 more miles right after the race and was back in time to see the tail end of the awards where 2 of my friends and my husband had placed in their age groups.

Sunday is long run day for full marathon training. While I normally complete my long runs on Saturday instead because of my half marathon mentoring, I did my goal pace run Saturday and planned ahead to do 12 miles on Sunday. Jane, who mentored me during my first half last year, is my primary running partner for the full marathon. We match pace and we amuse one another. So, we ran 12 miles with a couple of breaks to adjust, refill, and loosen up. Only towards the end did I feel anxiety and have to zone myself out and Jane was there to pull me out of my head. We even got to go to a brunch afterward just for women to shop for bras and have mimosas and pancakes. It was fun and a nice incentive during our run was that there was a mimosa in it for us. After that, I went to a nature center and hiked around a little with my family. I needed a nap after.

Monday, I woke up with ear congestion and a sore throat presumably from being in the great outdoors so much over the weekend. I spent most of the day feeling a little ‘blah’ from the decongestant. My husband worked late and was preparing for a business trip through the middle days of the week. After dinner, we had problems discussing then arguing with my oldest child. She nitpicked at me and tried to break me down seeking out insecurities about my parenting. She walked out of the house and after a little while, I had to call the local police to help me find her. They opened a case with a national database. She returned home around 10 pm and I called off the search. The police came by for a welfare check and then we went to bed.

I didn’t get to run last night. I won’t be running tonight with my group. I’m sad and I’m disappointed. I’m still a little angry and hurt. When I get to run, I will do it. Because I can do it. Not because I have to. I want to run 26.2 miles because I know that I can, so why not do it? I train for it because I want to do it right. Sometimes, I carry on because I don’t know what the other options are. I don’t know how much of my strength was a choice on my part, but I’m here and I’m pushing forward. I know that I’m not always confident and I worry how people see me and how my children see me. I also know that I’m human and I make mistakes just like anyone else and nobody is perfect no matter how much they appear to be. I have depression and life doesn’t slow down or ease up on me when I’m down. It doesn’t matter how far down I am, it’ll still kick me. So, I just have to get back up more times than it knocks me down. That doesn’t mean I’ll just spring up and be ready for more each time, though. I’m tired. I get worn down.

So, I’ll get back to running once I can later this week. I’ll do my long runs and I’ll put in the time to train for my 26.2 mile race. Not because I have to, but because I can and I will do this.


Hubby and I after the race. He got 2nd in his age group and I PR’d!



Emotional Outburst

Many of you have probably seen this post on my other blog . If not, go ahead and click, read, and come back here. At the time, I meant every word I said. I was feeling emotional and I didn’t wait for the emotion to pass to write about it. Sometimes, we call that passion. Often, we become embarrassed or regretful when we’ve given in to an impulse. I have experienced those emotions since then and I’ve had time to reflect on how I really feel about what I said and about all of the positive responses I’ve read. I have also had time to see a bigger picture and perhaps soothe some of my own aching emotions.

I’d first like to thank the people who offered me encouragement and reminded me who I am and how strong a person I have become. While I can’t stand the thought of drawing attention to myself, this was actually a positive experience when I stepped back and looked at it. Mental illness means that often, something in my head lets me feel alone in my struggles and too afraid to share them with anyone. Compound that with the fear of casting myself in a negative light and I’m generally a big old bully to myself.

Next, I’d like to address my concerns about my physical appearance. I weigh about the same as I did last year. I weigh 30 pounds less than I did a year before that. I wear 3 sizes (if you count by even numbers) smaller than I did back then. Somehow, I saw this as a memory on social media going back to when I was trying to get rid of my old clothes a couple of years ago. I haven’t seen that size since then. I get upset that I don’t look tight from my rib cage to knees. I have an idea in my head [that is probably unrealistic] of how I’m supposed to look and I’m not very kind to myself when I am reminded that is not how I look.

Additionally, my running habits are solid.  I run minutes per mile faster than I did just last year. While I am mad that I can’t seem to beat my 5k PR after my first race this year, I’m enjoying trying at the races or I wouldn’t be doing them. I’m also really enjoying being a mentor and sharing my love of running and my knowledge with other people. If I didn’t love it, I wouldn’t be training to run a marathon. I was feeling down on myself and forgot that the reason I signed up to run my first 13.1 race was not because I wanted to lose weight, but because changing my focus from weight loss to endurance was something I needed to do for myself. I needed to prove to myself that this body was capable of amazing things. I am capable of moving forward for miles on end while pushing past fatigue and mental barriers that seemed impossible at one point.

I picked myself apart, folks. Parenting is hard. Working is hard. Being an adult is just plain difficult. There are challenges everywhere we turn. So, I’m not the ideal mom [that is also unrealistic] in my head. I love my husband and all 3 of my children fiercely and without apology. I do what I can to show them how to be an honest, loving, and caring person. I don’t always have an activity lined up and I don’t feed them organic everything. I lead by example the best I can and I admit when I’ve made a mistake. Those things are actually important. They’ll never know or care how I was in an office environment and it carries no weight in what happens in my future.

So, in conclusion, I had an adult tantrum. It was not very well thought out and not very well carried out; I misspoke about myself. You could even say that I trash talked myself. It in no way reflects the way other people really see me. It was simply my overreaction to things that I allowed to build up instead of addressing them. I appreciate the immense support and outreach from people who read it. I often need the reminder that I might actually be too hard on myself sometimes [often]. I have major depressive disorder. I always hope that by some miracle, I won’t need medication anymore because that somehow would make me label myself “normal”. One day, I’ll accept that “normal” is just a setting on the washing machine and a city in Central Illinois.

Thank you for reading and I hope that I’m making sense now. This is a good time to examine how we define ourselves and how we see success. Do we forget that once we’ve reached a goal, we raise the bar again? Do we forget to stop and celebrate the victories when we are constantly moving the goal posts?

Week 2 of marathon training is done and I rocked it. On to week 3, and trying not to forget to celebrate accomplishments the way to 26.2 miles.


Oh, boy….I have a few things to address…

Forward Motion

Sometimes I’m unsure as to whether I should write about something because the story isn’t all mine to tell. Sometimes, I struggle with wanting to put that story down because its powerful and it affects me so deeply that I feel I need to share it to be able to make sense of it. I still haven’t made sense of the past week. I don’t think it will ever come together as something I can understand.

Wednesday was the first boot camp style class for me with Winter Warriors, the ten week program I joined to stay accountable for my fitness routine in the miserable months ahead. I brought a minimal number of items in a bag and threw them, and my phone, onto a shelf in the entry of the gym and headed inside for a 30 minute lesson on proper form and the exercises we’d be doing during the core workouts. This meant the typically hated body weight exercises that included burpees, mountain climbers, and push ups. When we were done, I socialized a few moments and went to the car to drive home in the insane wind and drizzling rain. I pulled into the driveway and the family van was not in the garage. I pulled my phone out of my bag and had missed messages, phone calls, and voicemails from the last 45 minutes. I called my husband to hear the words I think I was already expecting from him. “We’re at the hospital. [Our 15 year old child] has tried to overdose on pills. There was an ambulance at the house and I brought the other two kids with me in the van.” The younger two kids are 3 and 5 years old.

I closed the garage door and headed to the hospital in my sweaty gym clothes without my purse. I called my best friend. I cried my eyes out while telling her how I was so upset and so angry and I just needed to center. She spoke back to me in a calm and even voice and assured me that my emotions were normal and to go do what I needed to. I arrived at the hospital after having to drive all of the way around it to get to the emergency department. I ran inside and was met by a woman who said that she couldn’t see the names of patients in the rooms, but had a feeling I was looking for room 18. She took me to the room where my oldest lay in a bed in the middle of the room with a box of tissues beside her looking emotionless. My husband then relayed to me she had taken my anti depressant pills from my room and taken them and that the ambulance drivers took the bottle so they could count and estimate how many she’d taken. The nurse came in and confirmed which bottle had been taken and that she’d taken around 30 of my anti depressant pills from a recently filled bottle of 90. The nurse also said that she’d been in touch with poison control and that she’d need to take some charcoal. My husband and smaller kids stayed until after the charcoal was done, but they were getting quite restless (as any young children would). I asked my husband to take them home since I was crying and didn’t want them to see me so upset.

During this time, I was checking my phone and one of her friends and the older sister had sent me messages on Facebook telling me that my daughter was saying things about killing herself. Another friend of hers messaged me the same thing. The assistant principal called to tell me that students had reported her saying she was taking pills. Later, I’d check her Snapchat to see that she had posted that she was going to kill herself using pills and that over 200 people had viewed that story on there. 4 people that I know of reported it. I assured the friends that contacted me that they made a good choice and may have saved the life of a friend. Quick thinking and reporting made a huge difference in this case.

I’d also sent a few messages out to people for support. One person, though she has a very young child and is probably very busy offered to bring me my things that I’d left at home and found myself needing during my wait. Another person, a runner friend who has been in similar circumstances offered that I was running mile 9 and that I’d make it to mile 10. She was right. I just didn’t feel like running that mile at the time, but I also have never felt like it when I was out running on the trail.

I sat in the chair for about 12 hours crying off and on. Sometimes, uncontrollably sobbing and trying to hide behind tissues or even my shirt pulled over my face. I watched people come in from the rigs on stretchers with their eyes closed and wondered if they were going to make it through the night. I had security watch my daughter while I went home and put on clothes that were more appropriate for the cold and windy weather that had settled upon the area in the past few hours. I picked up my Kindle and my phone charger from my house and briefly talked to my husband. I went back to the hospital and read an entire book while sitting in the chair across the room from my daughter, who was in an out of sleep, with a rapid pulse the entire time.

Around 3am, a woman entered the room who looked so much like my friend Kate that I was instantly relieved to see her. She was from the county crisis team. My daughter asked to be alone with her, so I went out to the waiting room where a janitor gave me a blanket to keep me warm from the doors being forced open by the strong winds. I then talked to the crisis person myself. We arranged to have my daughter sent to a facility for mental health. A few hours later, an ambulance showed up and took her on the drive to a larger town’s hospital that offers adolescent mental health care. I went home to sleep.

In the days since then, I’ve cleaned her room from top to bottom looking for anything she could hurt herself with upon her return. I’ve moved all prescription and OTC drugs into my bedroom closet and added a lock to my closet door. I’ve found an empty pain killer bottle in her closet that I hadn’t even realized was gone until I saw it. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve had conflicts with my husband that I don’t think we’d have if we weren’t under so much stress. I haven’t been out to run or even in my workout clothes. I’ve slept more than I usually would. I’ve talked to some of my daughter’s friends and even one of her teachers that lives a few houses away. He brought me her work from the school office to help out.

Apparently, in all the things going on while my husband was home and I was gone, a parent of one of her friends knocked on the door to tell him what was happening. When he tried to get her into the van to go to the hospital, she screamed that she wanted to die. My 3 year old has asked twice if her sister is dead. Once in the middle of the night after waking from a dream.

This was unexpected. It wasn’t out of the blue. A few weeks ago, the school called to tell us that she was threatening to overdose on pills. Crisis team was brought in for that, too. They made a safety plan with her. We made emergency appointments with a therapist and psychiatrist. We made her leave her bedroom door open so we could supervise her. The master bedroom was locked and we carried keys around with us to get in so that she couldn’t have access to prescriptions that were in the room. We were only allowing people to come to our house instead of her going to visit others so that we could supervise what was going on.

My daughter is due to come home tomorrow morning. We will have some pretty strict policies in place. She’ll have some new coping tools. We will all have to heal from this and figure out how to move forward. I don’t share this to ask for anything. I know that mental illness comes with a stigma that society still isn’t finished with placing on the people who suffer. I also know that unless you’ve actually been in the same exact position, you cannot say what you would do or how you would handle this.

I’ve spoken to and visited my daughter. I don’t think she would have wanted me to write this, but I think that it can help. Especially with people who may have gone through this quietly.

I’ve found some comfort in telling myself that the only way you get through life is forward because that’s the direction it goes. Things don’t pause when you need them to and they don’t slow down when you want them to. There are always going to be times where we wish things would just be different, but the only way to change them is to keep moving forward and get through and past it. So, I’m going to make it to mile 10. It just won’t be easy.



Valleys with occasional peaks – Depression

I’m depressed and I’m too down to really talk about it with anyone directly. I don’t want people to think I’m whining. I also don’t want to shock anyone with how down I really am. It is alarming. I know there are people who look at what I’m saying and wonder what on Earth I’d  have to be depressed about. That isn’t even a valid inquiry. It isn’t me being depressed about something. It is the feeling that no matter what good I have in my life, I’m not enjoying it. I feel sadness, anger, helplessness, and disappointment. I feel like I want to crawl into a hole so I don’t have to interact with people so I don’t do any unintentional damage. I don’t want to make any decisions because I’m sure every one I make is the wrong choice. I don’t want my friends or family to feel like they’re doing something wrong to make me feel this way. I don’t trust therapists.They don’t know me and 1 hour a week isn’t going to fix anything, especially since it makes a huge negative impact on my budget. I don’t have many friends and I don’t want to burden the couple that still hang around. It’s probably why the other ones walked away.

No, I’m not thinking about hurting myself. I’m just not psyched about waking up in the morning. I got on the scale this morning. I saw my weight. Before any other thought crossed my mind, the most prominent thought was, “I don’t want to live anymore, it’s too hard.” I looked at myself in the mirror with shame over that thought. I should suck it up and admit that every failure in my life is from my own bad choices and I have to stick around to suffer for them. I should know that I’d be the size I want if I would just work harder at it. I should stop whining and suck it up.

I need people to see me as emotionally and physically strong. I’ve survived a lot of things in the years I’ve been around and things are actually better for me now than they were in years past. So why am I being such a spoiled brat? Why can’t I just be a normal person? Why am I so strange and so unhappy?

I’m on medication. Every time I mention my emotional health to my doctor, she raises the dose. I don’t really want medication. Especially if I’m going to suffer the side effects and still have such low swings.

All I know now is that I feel like a total failure at life. My kids are wild because of me. My teen has self-image issues because of me. My husband feels helpless because I’m unable to hide my unhappiness and he thinks he is at fault. I failed at working in the corporate world and I’m not really great at staying at home with the kids, either. I hate to admit these things because I know how the people who don’t like me wish I would fail. It isn’t right for humans to behave that way toward one another, but it really is what happens. There are people who relish in the failures of others instead of being there to celebrate the successes. I wish I were the person that I want to be instead of this pathetic thing I see in the mirror.

I am afraid to share this. I don’t want to be discouraging. I also don’t want to be negative. I feel a responsibility to make other people happy and be encouraging. So this is hard for me. I almost wish I was doing it anonymously.

Anyway, a very encouraging person for those of us who suffer is actually The Bloggess, Jenny Lawson. Her posts are relate-able and often funny, which is great for the mind and soul.