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Sometimes i worry for my sanity: I set things down, and then can’t find them again. And when i do, finally, i wonder why i put the shoes in the drawer or the toothbrush on the stairs, etc. I call people, and get nervous when they pick up because, um, who did i just dial? I am clinging to the hope that this is residual ‘baby brain,’ and will dissipate (or at least improve) when kids around here are dressing themselves, and going to the bathroom by themselves and know not to try to step off the edge of the chair or put their sweet fingers into the door hinge. I hope.
Sometimes, when i least expect it (isn’t that how it always is?) I find myself living with the ‘evil twin’ version of me. Out of nowhere. Doing all the things i thought i’d gotten past. Some of which include: Losing my patience/losing my cool on the kids when everyone’s talking at once, making a meal out of a plate of cookies (while i feed the kids something slightly more nutritious, like maybe hot dogs.), comparing my (personality/face/hair/shape/personal style) to everyone else’s, staying up too late and being crabby in the morning, and being defensive with Brian. Oh (sadly) i could go on (and on), but you get it. Ugh.
Sometimes, I find myself thinking of certain (random) things i do, “Oh, everyone does this.” For example: I think of myself as basically a goof. Or a dork. Doesn’t everyone? I narrate my life in my head. I completely lose focus in large group settings (especially restaurants… loud places… and forget about a for real conversation in the hallway at church.), though i fight it desperately when it happens, perhaps it’s just sensory overload. I burst into song regularly. It takes a good few minutes to ‘come to’ in the morning (and i’m thinking, “what is that poking into my ribs, and who is making all that noise?” Oh yeah, the three kids who have now crawled into bed with me. And then suddenly it occurred to me (yesterday,) that maybe everyone doesn’t!
Also, sometimes I think I’m going to write something silly, and suddenly it’s oh, so vulnerable. What do you think, do you do random stuff like this too?
Thursday I woke up feeling like i just couldn’t wake up. Feeling fairly hungover, actually. Was is that soda (Cherry 7Up- yum!) I had shortly before bed? I’ve experienced sugar hangover before, and maybe that’s what it was. But the feeling never wore off, not even after the usual amount of time (and coffee) my brain/body require to wake up in the morning. My head and lower back ached, only slightly, too.
By dinner time I realized that maybe going to bed super-early would help the situation. You will understand how seriously I felt about this when I tell you I went to bed at 9:30, when I knew Project Runway was coming on at 10. Yes.
I expected to feel great the next day, but woke up still feeling … not awesome. I’d almost prefer a few days of actual sickness, which would justify sleeping all day. But instead, I’ve felt stuck in not-awesomeness for several days now. And just when I think it’s gone, and that after I’ve really “woken up” for the day, I realize it’s not gone.
Steph told me about an old home remedy she read about: Before bed time, dip a pair of socks in cool water. Soak your feet in really warm water for fifteen minutes or so, then pull on the wet socks. Put a pair of warm wooly socks over top, and go to sleep. I tried it. Not sure if it helped at all, but it was less weird feeling than I expected.
And I’ve really stepped up the preventative measures: plenty of water, the occassional nap, vitamin C, neti pot-ing and gargling salt water (flushes bacteria from the nose/throat), and now have really gone full-force by sprinkling (2!) sliced-up raw garlic cloves over my lunch, and then drinking a cup of cider spiked with a generous amount of ginger and a bit of honey and lemon. Intense.
Now i’m sipping more water, working (well, I was at least) and wishing there was time for a nap, and hoping that out of all that, something kicks in and brings me back to normal soon.
An excerpt from what I’m reading this morning:
“Most evangelicals I know see what they eat and drink as the last bastion of self-control. Many wouldn’t drink even a little bit of wine and confess to it. They feel that while it might have been alright for Paul and Timothy, it would weaken their own reputations in the church….
Gluttony, however, is a rare subject of spiritual discussion. It is the sin kept on reserve, a more legitimate indulgence. If you need a certificate of moral permission for a real whopper of an iniquity, you can pile up your plate at the Sunday school potluck, and the church will sign off on gluttony.
I have always been struck by the odd inconsistency of obese evangelists preaching against alcohol abuse. How wicked we become in excusing our own indulgences while excoriating (berating) others for theirs. Self-forgiveness sometimes forgives the preacher while calling the audience to task. No-where is this truer than in how many believers handle gluttony.
This permissible gluttony is an odd allowance, since the Bible condemned it so often… “
-Calvin Miller, in Self-Control: cultivating Spirit-given character (a six-week Bible study guide).
I read this and say A-men. It is detrimental to separate these sins, reducing things to a do- and don’t- list without seeking to purge our hearts of the underlying issues. Can I sincerely claim that I seek to “do all to the glory of God” ?
As you can see, i didn’t trouble myself too much to pass that information on to you by blog. This is because either i probably saw you, corresponded with you by facebook or twitter, OR you could just read my tweets over there on the left side of this page, so you could clearly see I am still alive. OR it is possible you thought it utterly ridiculous that i was afraid of not surviving to begin with, and assumed the very best. (and therefore didn’t worry a bit for my safety.)
Well, last Saturday night, I had a scary dream. I woke up feeling unnerved. In the dream, it was 6:30 am, the set time for my running partners to meet up at my house, and i was making coffee. I kept making it wrong: forgetting to grind the beans first, forgetting to add water, accidentally pouring the water into the grounds instead of into the machine… Funny how the scariest dreams are sometimes of the silliest things. I seriously woke up with my heart pounding. And when 6:30 rolled around, sho’ nuff we were fresh out of coffee beans. Fortunately i was not the only one in need of some caffeination, so we all made a coffee run before heading down to the Battleship.
It was packed– 1,300 people. And it was so exciting– the nervous tension in the air, the anticipation, the starting line and waiting for the crack of the starting gun. I was very careful to keep the pace nice and easy– i knew starting too fast would be a sure downfall. I was separated from my girls at the start, and thinking they were somewhere behind me, hung back a bit. By the time i realized they had actually passed in the crowd, i was too far behind to worry about it, but thankfully, was running with a friend. We stayed together for the first five miles (she knew– and warned me about– where the photographers were on the course! amazing!)
After five, she decided on a little walk break. I, on the other hand, don’t do walk breaks; I’m pretty sure/terrified that if i break my rhythm I’ll never get back into it. So on i went. This is as we’re starting a long lap around the lake– birds are chirping overhead, there is the sound of so many feet pounding the pavement, the sound of my own breathing, and i’m feeling pretty good. I’m just thankful to be alive and moving. I’m on my own until about mile eight, when i run into another friend. He’d also lost his ‘pack’ and was feeling stifled by the (80 degree!) heat. ”Talk to me about something happy,” he said, and we talked about his upcoming wedding. Then at the water station, he stopped for a walk break, and I kept going.
At mile nine, i spotted two of the girls ahead, and picked up the pace just enough to catch them. We exchanged “Where have you been?” and “i never thought i’d find you,” and ran together until mile ten. Serious mind games are going on at this point: on the one hand, I’m telling myself, “Hey, ten down and just a measly three (.1) left! I have so got this.” While on the other hand, i am aware that my longest training run was just nine. I don’t know what to expect from my body at this point, and especially with that godawful humidity. Nonetheless, what do you do? Don’t stop, that’s what. At this point, I pulled out the music– which I’d saved for just the right moment, and cranked it on up.
After mile eleven, there are no more mile signs. And you know you’re close, but it feels like there should be a marker every 100 yards, because it also feels like forever. People are walking, trudging even, left and right. There are three hills close together: an on-ramp to get onto the bridge, the bridge itself, and then another ramp off to the road where the Battleship (and finish line) is. I am determined a) to not stop running, and b) to not fall on that bridge. ”Pick up your knees!” I tell myself, as i run over the metal grate of terror. There are two ambulances ahead. ”I’m trying,” replies a guy just in front of me.
On the way up that final hill, no one around me is even jogging; everyone’s slowed to a walk. I am desperate for someone to pace off of, to push me. Finally i catch and then fall into step with a girl who’s at just my pace. ”You’re pushing me,” she says, “thanks.” I tell her no, it’s the other way around. We are in the drive just in front of the ship now, but suddenly I am panicked. I thought the finish was right back where we’d started, but I can’t tell if it is. I don’t see any signs, and it is possible that we have to turn a sharp corner to get there. I see a sign that says “1 mile” and become truly panicked– there is no way i have another whole mile in me. I contemplate stopping and dropping right then and there.
And then.
Then suddenly i notice a guy in a bright red shirt, and around waist level, another red shirt. And a yellow shirt. I had scanned spectators throughout the course, hoping to see my family, and now it takes a moment to register that here they are! ”Go, Mommy!” I hear Oliver and Stella cheering. Asher’s arms are flailing with excitement. I want to cry. As I pass, they cheer and Brian high fives me. I hear friends cheering my name. Oh my goodness, I am really going to finish this thing. And here’s the finish line right there!
I sailed through the last few meters, grinning. I finished in 2:13, beating my goal time by two minutes, beating my doubts soundly and feeling so grateful just to be alive.
