Chronic Silver Linings of Bullshit

As a person with a chronic illness and chronic pain, I think a lot about the difference between finding bullshit silver linings and remaining positive/hopeful. Today I was invited (through my doctor, no need to worry about scammers) to participate in a paid research study on active people with chronic pain. I'm going to take this bullshit silver lining and run with it...literally. Looks like someone might be getting a new Garmin watch sooner than she expected.

P.S. Yes, I have a chronic illness and a chronic pain condition. We'll probably talk about that sometime. :)

Sundays

It’s Sunday. For a lot of people that means it’s long run day or rest day. For me, it’s an “active recovery” day so that my body doesn’t go into complete shock with Monday’s workout run after Saturday’s long run. I take my full rest day on Friday because Fridays are when it’s the hardest to get out of bed and we all know that come Friday at 5pm the only thing I have any interest in is an alcoholic beverage. I tried for a long time to make Friday a cross training day and really bask in Sunday as the Lord’s day of rest (well, as much as I could for a non-believer), but it just didn’t work out and listening to our bodies is most important, right? Right. Craft brews it is!

Sunday is also very commonly, brunch day. As badass as it is to jump into social activities post long run, I can’t bring my ice bath and obnoxious sense of pride into public spaces too frequently or people start to ask questions. So, I’d much rather roll out of yoga or spin class or a home workout before joining any squad over benedicts and bubbles.

Today is Sunday. It’s an active recovery day. It’s also good day for brunch. Unlike many of my millennial peers, I am not downtown at a cafe that looks like it belongs inside of an Anthropologie, I am instead, home alone at my parents’ house.

I’ve been oddly anxious about my long runs lately and in working hard to cope with that anxiety, I have been spending Friday evenings with my parents so that are people around to help me get into the groove come 6am when I need to be getting ready for my long runs. When I’m home alone, I can so easily sleep in (because rest is good for my body, y’all) then the day gets too hot and I’m left anxious the whole day until sunset when it’s actually cool enough to run. So I come home. Where there is racket and coffee at 6am and smiling parents who tell me to “have a nice jog”...them simply using the word “jog” lights a fire of irritation under me and probably helps my pace.

Long Run: Check (This long run was actually really short. Early season, y'all.)

If you’re wondering why I am still here on Sunday, that is a fair question. I am puppy sitting for my sweet, sweet parents while they and my baby sister go to her first college tour. They left at 5:15 am. I had some coffee with them and immediately went back to sleep.

My active recovery day has consisted of a Beachbody On Demand Cardio workout and lot of short, but adventurous, puppy walks. I am the Queen of forgetting to feed myself on the weekends, so it’s around 1pm now and I’m just making brunch. Yes, I’m hosting a fabulous brunch for 1 today. Complete with a mimosa. And yes, it’s in a rocks glass because I don’t always trust myself with flutes.

Toast with scramble of spinach, mushroom, 2 eggs, and 1/4 c. egg whites. 

Sundays have different meaning, value, and agendas for everyone, but I think for many people, Sunday is in some way a day of ritual. You have your Sunday thing. It may change seasonally, but I think the consistency is always a good way to round out one week and set us up for another.

Happy Sunday, y’all.

P.S. Now that I think about it, I didn’t brunch last Sunday either. I slept in, worked out, then got a doughnut and a pedicure. Both carbs and pampering are important parts of race training. Also, it’s football season, so if you think football is as incredibly pointless as I do… how about you try going out and doing fun/important things during prime football time. Getting pedicures and going to Sam’s Club is never more of a breeze than when everyone else on the planet is home or at the bar watching football. You’re welcome for that life tip.

work you love can still be work

“If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

You know... I’m going to call bull shit on that.

Yep. I said it. I don’t buy that at all. This is not a bitter “I hate Mondays because I hate my life” rant, I promise. It’s more of a “you can love what you do and be passionate about your work and it’s impact, but still acknowledge and honor that your work is truly work” conversation. It is hard, it takes focus, it’s not always fun, but it is yours. It matters, it is important, and you deserve to create boundaries from it to support yourself personally and professionally.

I love my job. I do. Yes, I am only 3 years into my profession and in many ways I am still very bright and shiny and sometimes protected. However, in many ways this is actually my 6th year working in some capacity in my field. In my 3 years working full time a lot has been asked of me and I have been exposed to a great deal of challenge both of me and for the individuals whom it is my job to support.

I love almost every minute of my job, even the minutes...or hours or days when I feel completely worn down and nearly defeated. At least I know that when it’s tough it’s because we’re going out on a limb to provide the best support and guidance that we can. At the very least...I know that it’s something I can learn from. As much as I love my job and can constantly see how my work is supporting and better the experiences of others...I cannot deny for a second that it is work. And hard work. Even when it is fun it is work. And that is ok.

It has been a really hard week. A really hard week. I have helped students through the kind of crisis that I honestly don’t even think that I could handle with grace, understanding, or bravery myself. I have seen fears and statistics come to fruition. I have played roles in strategic setups, interventions, and missions of safe relocation and removal. Not to mention fire drills of every residence hall on campus. I have done hard work. Hard work that I wish I didn’t have to do. I have bruises on my knuckles for knocking on nearly every door on campus. (I really should get a gavel or something.) I was grateful and proud to be the one there to do it, but I wish it never even had to be done. (Well, not the fire drills, fire does just happen sometimes.) This week was hard work. But it only makes me love my job more.

Loving your work and feeling like your work is work are not mutually exclusive. Not every task in your job needs to feel effortless and enjoyable in order for your work to be loved and feel important to you, your interests, and your values.

And yes, Mondays aren’t always my favorite either. But that’s because there is a big difference between long-run-and-brunch Sundays and going-into-the-office-and-looking-at-my-sea-of-emails Mondays...and that’s allowed to not feel super exciting. My Monday afternoon staff meeting is usually something to look forward to though...and that sometimes just clearly isn’t work. ;)

lonelier, but happier

I have the absolute honor of getting to work with incredibly smart and supportive people. It’s an even greater privilege that a handful of them are mental health professionals. One of my dearest colleagues was a Marriage and Family Therapist before coming to the world of Higher Education. By no surprise, she’s who we all process our love lives with.

We’ve been touch and go in the last couple of months with the start of the year being so busy. I never even got the chance to tell her that my relationship had ended, but fortunately she just figured it out and completely understood. The other day were talking and she struggled to get started with a point she wanted to make with me. She did that thing where she’d start talking then pause and say, “I really just don’t know how to say this without sounding awful.” Jumping to assumptions like I often do, I said, “I’ve been a massive bitch lately, I’m so sorry. I’ve been sick and stressed and have just had a really hard time with some things lately. I’m sure I’ve been blunt and quick and expressing more sass to people I trust.”

“Um no…” she said, “actually, my thought is the opposite.” She went on to tell me that since my relationship had ended, she’s enjoyed me more. Yeah, those were her actual words. She said despite the stress and angst, I’ve seemed happier. I’ve been putting a lot of love and care into my work. I’ve taken more ownership of my work and thinking of ways to make it better for years to come. At first I was shocked, but then I figured it out. She’s right. As much as I still carry around a broken heart, I have so much hope and joy with my life right now. I don’t feel afraid to want to learn and grow and try. I can work really hard and do things for myself and think about the kind of future that I want for me without feeling guilty. Without thinking that I should be home on skype or focusing my energy on how I was going to move somewhere I didn’t want to be with someone who at the end of the day didn’t want to be with me. I’m no longer caught under pressure to change myself to accommodate someone who wasn’t willing to change theirs.

I really loved her, but there truly has been a weight taken off of my shoulders and my one friend wasn’t the only one who saw it. Apparently it had become a topic among some of my closest colleagues. I feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable knowing that this had been a topics of discussion, but I guess I do that too with other people. It’s part of taking care of your people. Not gossip, but figuring out if/how they need your support. My people have known to not ask me questions and not make me talk unless I bring it up. To instead just keep me focused on where and what and how I want to keep making myself happy. And to let me cry in their offices when I need to.

Things that are helping me heal: time, friends, work, running, and this quote from Kelly Roberts...

"If you love someone why would you wait to give them that gift? Some people may not be ready for your love, that’s not your fault nor is it a good enough reason not to not tell them that you love them. (I'm serious, unrequited love sucks but even if they're not able to accept your love, they still need it.) Love is a gift that shouldn't be given only when you expect the gift in return. That's playing it safe and there's no safe bets when it comes to love. You fall head over heels in love. You don't slowly wade safely into love -- right? (I stole that from a Ted Talk so you know it's true.)"

We All Have A (Running) Story

I started running at one of the most challenging times in my life. I was a point where I felt like I didn’t have anything left. The constants in my life had faded and I was a year into piecing myself back together again after witnessing years of my own self destruction. I needed something. I needed to do something. To own something. But I sat in this place, terrified beyond measure of failure. I knew whatever I took on I was most definitely going to fail at...so of course I decided to jump into something that I knew was entirely unreachable. Running. I was going to run. I knew I couldn’t. I thought I’d probably die. I had been told all of my life that I couldn’t run because of my weight and my “uniquely trained” dancers muscles. I knew that I was going to fail and if I was going to fail, I might as well fail hard. It’s less embarrassing when you fail at something if there wasn’t even any hope of you being successful...right?

I guess the joke was on me...because I didn’t fail. Well at least not in the way that I had expected to. The thing I learned really quickly about running was that if I allowed myself to be, I was in control. I sought comfort in the control aspect of running. Not comfort in the sense that running by any means was physically or mentally comfortable...in fact to this day running puts me in some of the most discomfort I can experience...but when I’m running, I’m in control of what kind of discomfort and for how long I’m experiencing it. I am also able to see, over varying times, how the discomfort eventually leads to progress and change.

Later on in my running journey social media took storm and I was finally able to see and connect with this larger running community. For the first time in my journey, I saw others talk about running in a way that I could connect with. Prior the world that social media is today, my acknowledgement of running pretty much stopped at Nike models and a handful of “Runner’s Stories” from the copies from Runner’s World that were in the bathroom at one of the houses I babysat at. Dorothy Beal popped into my life via instagram and I eventually found her blog. I discovered that I wasn’t alone in thinking that running was hard as shit but I wanted to do it anyways. Dorothy is the founder and creator of the “I Run This Body” and #ihavearunnersbody movements. I will always always be grateful for the courage and vulnerability that she brings to the sport. In her spotlight video with Saucony her opening lines are beautiful, striking, and haunt my mind in the most encouraging and understanding way. After chanting through heaving breathing to the soundtrack of only her own footsteps, she says, “I run this body. I’m in control of myself. I choose my path. As big as you can dream, you can make it come true.” That was it. That was my relationship with running. That was what I needed to hear someone else acknowledge and put words to to help me shift my perspective on my relationship with running. No medal in the world would have ever allowed me to say that I love running only because it’s mine, but her words helped me understand myself.

Now let me remind you that I used to hate running and somedays I still do. I guess my running story is really just like so many others’. I was at a point in my life where the only way to run from my problems was to literally just run. I notice that I fall in love with running all over again every time I’m dealing with something really hard or at a tough place in life where I feel compelled to find a piece of myself again. And that’s exactly where I am right now.

running and all of the support

Last Friday night I went to my first group run. I have been absolutely terrified to do something like this. Fear (which I’ll write about soon, I promise) controls so much of what I do…AND I HAVE BEEN IN COMPLETE DENAIL ABOUT IT. But I did it.

My local running store, staffed by the most loving super heroes, host group runs twice a week as well as various other themed events and activities. Last Friday it was Ladies Night. A representative from Brooks was coming and allowing women runners (well, feminine runners who wear bras) to not only try on some of their most popular styles, but let us go out for a run in them. Yep…she let us try on bras then go sweat our nasty Florida runner sweat in them before deciding if we wanted to buy one (and we weren’t even allowed to buy our sweaty one). What a gift, I mean really. I already own a couple of Brooks (Brooks recently bought Moving Comfort if you didn’t know) bras and one I love and the other I hate, so I figured I would go and see if I was even wearing the right size, maybe test out a style I didn’t already own, experience my first group run in the most painless environment they could create, and enjoy some free champagne. No harm no foul…good trial run before starting my group-training program, right?

Well…on my way there I stalled in the work parking lot talking to a colleague about nothing and then circled the parking lot before I left. My heart pounded so hard I thought that I was going to puke on the drive over. Why was I so afraid? I’ve run countless races. Hell, I have paid to run, surrounded by strangers, time and time again. Why was I so afraid to go on a free group run with only women?

I still couldn’t tell you, but I guarantee you that it has a lot to do with comparing myself to others and the intense discomfort that comes with being vulnerable. Well there, I guess I can tell you. You know what else I can tell you…that I had absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

My stalling and delayed departure from work Friday night left me to arrive at the running store at 6:40pm…5 minutes before the group run was about to start. I showed up in the dress I had worn that day with my running clothes in my bag and most certainly a panicked look on my face.  I was gracefully intercepted upon arrival by not one, but two, of their painfully generous staff and was measured and handed a bra to try on for our “quick, fun, easy” run.

I go to the dressing room and it hits me in the face/gut/chest that I’ve been sick and it has been the busy time of year for me work wise and it was just summer (in Florida) so I haven’t really run…like not even from something…in at least two months. I was definitely about to embarrass myself, but somewhere between hand placing my breasts into a sports bra designed by an armory and putting on the wrong socks, I decided to just go for it. We took a group picture before our run – smart because 37 seconds into any exercise and I look like the red telletubby – and walk outside through the parking lot to the local trail. The store staff member facilitating our run announced that “we were going to take it easy tonight, do whatever’s fun for you!” …I laughed. The front the group took off an easy pace and I kept up with them for a few minutes. I decided I didn’t want to completely embarrass myself so after a while I slowed down with the intention of pickup my pace in a little bit and doing a sort of run/walk interval.

I had never been on the trail before and had no reference as to how far we were going. I would spot landmarks and decide to start running once I got there then spot another landmark in the distance and decide to stop running once I got there. I played this game until I saw the group ahead (but not too far ahead) turn around. Our facilitator yelled, “turn around at the palm tree”….I had just started running again. I could definitely make it to the palm tree. I ran to the palm tree and as I turned around saw just how far back others were behind me. However, when the runners ahead of me passed them, the walkers all turned around to join. I had managed to stay gracefully mid-pack…and then I was last. I continued to play my landmark interval game, paying no attention to my Fitbit or my running app. My intervals allowed me to pass the walkers and make it back to the store, still gracefully mid-pack.

I don’t know how I did it…but I know for sure that I would not have gone as far and worked as hard as I did if I wasn’t surrounded by people who had expectations of me. I’m not being cocky, I know none of them cared how I performed, but they left with me and they expected me to return with them. Maybe ahead of them or behind them, but regardless we were on the same run. That right there is the magic of group runs. I don’t need a gossip friend, I don’t need to beat anyone, but knowing that people were waiting for me might have been the only thing that kept me going.

I surprised myself big time the other night, both physically and emotionally. You’re supposed to do things that terrify you right? That’s supposed to be good for you?

It must be, because the universe rewarded me big time. There was a drawing after our run. There were a few little prizes from Brooks, then the grand prize of a free bra of our choice. I was being rude and on my phone taking care of a work situation when my name was called…because I won the free bra. My first instinctual reaction was to cry…because that what I do when I’m surprised or overwhelmed or grateful or tried or confused or have a hangnail. But I caught myself before I made my night even more embarrassing and simply said “Wow, thank you! I’m sorry I was on my phone.”  30 sweaty minutes of champagne drinking and bra fitting later, I left with a Jubralee bra, a discounted pair of compression calf sleeves, and a glow of confidence that I haven’t worn in a very long time.

Friday night I felt a perfect combination of being pushed and feeling supported…both in both literal and metaphorical ways. I’m still a little terrified, but can’t wait to start my training program with them. I remain shocked that I even committed to this, but I keep hearing that if it doesn’t scare you, it’s probably not worth doing…so I’m just going to keep leaning on that.

I haven’t posted here in 6 years. 6 years. Sometimes I forget that the Internet was a thing 6 years ago, but then I remember just how old I’m getting. Such a joy…but really, it is.

Here are a few things that have happened…or better yet, haven’t changed.

• I graduated from college…well, 2 years ago. I stayed at the same school and while I fell absolutely in love with so much of it and ended up feeling really connected and supported, I still managed a classic love/hate relationship with it and the people there. I suppose you could say the exact same thing for my relationship with myself over the past 6 years.

• While in college I majored in Sociology and minored in Sexuality, Women, and Gender studies. It was hard, sometimes it made no sense, but I loved it. I was an RA for 3 years, joined a sorority and held a leadership position in it, and rode the roller coaster of 18-21 as best as I could. I really miss being a student and would really like to start grad school in the next year or so, but I can’t quite figure out what I want to study. I’m trying to find a balance between what I really love and what will help propel me further into my career while at the same time not limit me to only staying in my current field.

• Speaking of my current field, I am starting my third year as a Higher Education Student Affairs professional. I have been working full time in Residential Life since graduating undergrad – literally I had 3 days between graduation and starting my first job. My first job was such a learning experience but also complete hell. The stars aligned and after that first year I was able to take a similar position at another school (one I had looked at attending for undergrad) and am ankle deep into my second year here. I love it. It’s hard, I’m always on my toes, sometimes I fall, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else right now.

• My biggest flaw is still that I don’t listen enough. I do now more than I ever used to because it’s a key part of my job, but in general…I still cut people off when I think I know what they need, I’m planning what I have to say when they’re talking instead of completely listening. I 100% know better than to do that now, because more times that I can count I’ve been taught how to be a better listener by professionals and have even taught listening skills to others…it’s a conundrum really.

• I came out. I don’t know if when I started this blog I really even understood that I was gay. It wasn’t talked about much as I was growing up, I never felt the need to identify as anything and like we hear many joke about…literally “No one every asked me when I learned I was straight”…so I guess my coming out process – both to myself and others – got to be very personal and introspective. I just never liked guys the way my friends did and my sex positive and always willing to listen type never made me feel all that different from my straight peers. The fighting with myself to engage and respond to guys did though. It wasn’t supposed to be that hard right? Anyways, I bumped into the “you’re probably gay” corner the summer before I left for college when a close friend of mine told me she was bi and SLAMMED into the “you’re definitely gay” wall when I got to college and saw other gay people and same sex couples living happy, healthy, supported lives. Boom. Done. Definitely gay and definitely just fine. I have an amazing support system and the privilege to choose to surround myself with people who support me. I regularly have to remind myself how privileged I am that being gay has nearly no significance to others in the world I get to live in. I have never felt threatened or too different because of my sexual orientation, but I HAVE to remember that others are not in my position. Being open, being a role model, and being a resource for people is an important part of my life and my work. Being out at work as someone who works with college students is SO important and I will happily chat with anyone who thinks otherwise.

• I still get as side tracked and emotional. Example – the excerpt above.

• I very recently had my heart broken…and in the chaos of this time of year and working in education…I really haven’t been able to let myself process and heal. I 98% saw this coming. We really really enjoyed being together and were good for each other in so many ways, but we knew we needed and wanted different things and it would take immense sacrifice from one person for us to be able to be together long term. That’s just not how love works y’all. At the same time, there was that 2% that I was holding on to for dear life. It was long distance (Nebraska – Florida) and I gave it everything I had. But I slipped off a cloud one day and was hit in the face with how the effort for our relationship was so concentrated with me. There’s a fine line between doing anything for love and making sure there’s equitable effort…if that makes any sense. There is so so so much more to this story, but that’s the synopsis. It has been really hard. Partly because I just had to package up all of my stress and grief and sadness and put it in the corner so that I could get on with the most import part of my year job wise…and partly because a lot of the healing from this involves forgiving myself. I worked so hard to let this relationship be the epitome of “drop all the walls, trust everything, and just let yourself love” and it bitch slapped me into an alternate dimension. I could hate her with so much energy, but I know better than to. I’m entirely bewildered by some of her needs and actions, but I can rest knowing that they’re not mine to understand. There are days when I miss everything about her. There are days when I wish we had never met. There are days when I'm so angry and hurt I can't imagine ever having any sort of relationship with her ever again. Breakups are supposed to suck, right?

• I started running. After healing (well, as best as you can heal with life long therapies) from the back injury I sustained during my last year of high school, I started running. Growing up as a dancer I wasn’t allowed to run because it apparently built your leg muscles to be stronger in the wrong places. That’s probably a massive “old wives tale” but I listened to it at the time, and when dance wasn’t really an option any more I started running. Running is a horrible choice of exercise for someone with a long-term lower back injury, but I was 19 and didn’t give a shit. I’m still a runner…and it takes a lot of courage and vulnerability to call myself that, but I am. I have run 3 half marathons and various races of shorter, but usually equally challenges distances. I never “race” exactly, my only goals are to finish and not get injured and I can’t even manage both of those sometimes. My next half is this coming January and for the first time in my life I am going to training for it with a local training group. I want to be motivated, I want to fully train throughout the program and not let myself slack like I do when I’m on my own. I want to be social outside of work. I want to do something that terrifies me. I want to go into the race knowing full well that I can do it. Every other race has been this big miracle that I even finished and came with at least one injury that sidelined me for months. Not this time! Well, I can’t guarantee it, but I can try a little harder. Kelly Roberts is a major role model and inspiration for me and so because she confidently says it, I’ll say it too…  Sometimes the best way to run from your problems is to actually run from them. Example – the excerpt above.

So many other things have happened in the last 6 years. I’m an incredibly different person, but at the same time, so much still that 17 year old with wild hopes and extreme fear. We’ll see where it all takes me.

To courage and vulnerability!

Lauren