Pointing our compass to wholeness

Wednesday, exactly 2 weeks post surgery, I headed out for a run with my running partner who I affectionately call my BRP (best runner partner) I know. Clever, right? Not everyone can be as witty as me.

It was a cool 69 degrees and I was very happy about that. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be for me to get up considering I’ve been high on meds and sleeping in until 9:30 for the last month. Getting up at 4:30 again would surely be a shock to my system. Surprisingly, it was easy to get up. Of course, nap time later in the day was a different story. Picture covers over the head and drool coming out of the corners of my mouth.

During the workout, I was able to run 2 miles then walked the 40 remaining minutes while Jenny ran a full 6 miles. As I was walking, I thought about how we used to run speed work in that same neighborhood all last summer. I remember doing 800’s at a 7:45 pace.

And now here I was walking. I wondered what God or life was trying to teach me. I thought about my friends that walk and train for halfs and fulls and really began to empathize and admire their dedication to pound out those miles. It also takes a lot of patience and positive thinking.

But instead of beating myself up, I turned my frown upside down and enjoyed the sun beginning to rise. I told myself to be happy I was out there at all and that I wasn’t letting this injury or any of the other things going on in my life to beat me down or keep me in the bed like any other sane person would do two weeks post surgery.

I came home that morning and felt like I was on cloud nine. I was sweaty and hot and it was awesome! I made cinammon rolls for my son and his friends, enjoyed a few cups of joe, read some blogs and took my son to soccer practice. I also had a good time playing with the tot.

But later that afternoon, it seemed that all of the things I’ve been dealing with since Spring, really began to hit me. It seems that I have been in survival mode and now that things have calmed down a bit, I am actually processing all that has happened. I laid in my bed and felt frozen. I knew that I had to get up and shower to head to a birthday party but with all of my will, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I called my sister. She listened to me cry and prayed with me. My son came in my room and encouraged me. My husband came home and comforted me. At the last minute, I was able to hop in the shower. I hurriedly put my make-up on in the car and the “crisis” was averted. During the party, I was still feeling the aftershocks of crying for so long and actually teared up when the host of the party asked me how I was.

This morning I woke up and again felt paralyzed. I didn’t get out of my pajamas until four o’clock in the afternoon when I finally made myself get out of the house. As I went to load the tot into the van, I quickly realized that it was completely dead. Just my luck. However, I remembered the teenager’s car was here and I cranked it up. I was heading to my friend Christy’s house. The gas was on empty and because my identity was stolen earlier in the week, our funds were frozen so I couldn’t put gas in the car. However, since she literally lives down the street, I was able to make it. Just hanging out with her for an hour really helped improve my mood. I left her house with a big hug and lots of tears shared.

When I got back home, I found the energy to make dinner for the tot and I. I realized that it wasn’t scorching hot outside. I was so excited to take him outside to play. We’ve been forced inside for quite a while due to the high temps and brutal humidity. I sat the chairs up in the shade and we waited for the hubs to get home from his 11 hour workday. But by the time he got home, the peace I had found, was completely gone. It was lost somewhere between chasing the toddler back into the yard and out of the street and keeping him from climbing in the dead, hot van.

But, as the husband often does, he came home and saved the day. He jumped off the van and used it as a teaching moment for the teenager. I felt a little spring of joy well up by witnessing a really cute father/son moment. He then took the tot in and bathed him. I was so thankful for this because I was really beginning to beat myself up for the way he looked. I was telling myself that he was beginning to show the affects of his mother being in a depressed state. You know, dirty feet and hands from playing outside. Next stop, CPS.

No one ever said I wasn’t dramatic.

The teenager and I sat outside for about an hour just talking about our philosiphies on life, teenage angst, you know all of the juicy stuff a mom never wants to hear. But it was actually very calming and a really good time to just chill out and not chase around a 2 year old. The older my teenager gets, the more I enjoy our conversations-when he isn’t yelling at me and telling me how much he hates me. I relish the mature moments.

As I sit here and type tonight, I am feeling somewhat better. I plan to drop the tot off and head to Starbucks to work for a few hours in the morning. I think this will really help me feel somewhat alive again. I may not shower but at least I will be getting out. So, if you are planning on visiting the bux, you might want to stay several hundred feet away from me.

At some points, I get worried that I am teetering between sinking into a deep dark depression and just coming back on the mend. I tend to never give myself grace or credit and I am trying to remind myself that I just had surgery two weeks ago. I am coming off of my meds and I am also a little horomonal right now. There will be times that I am down and thats okay.

In an effort to be allpointswhole, I need to allow myself those moments. But it is also a balance. I have to take the necessary steps to force myself out of the depression/self loathing as well. Those steps are prayer and relying on my family and friends for encouragement and support. Blog writing is also high up there on the list. And exercise will climb its way back up to the top here shortly. But not too high lest I break my neck next. That’s realistic. I promise.

So as I close, I am curious to know. What do you when you are feeling down? Do you share your frustrations with others or just try to find inner strength to rely on?