This woman ran for most of her life to college classrooms, to grocery, to the stove, to the farm, to sports and work. She ran even faster from her feelings and faster still toward any speck of light that might help transform her trauma responses and dysregulation.
Trying to raise two babies while finishing her degree, you may have witnessed a disheveled frizzy-haired girl toggling an unzipped backpack, keys thrown into a random pocket, running across the quad at URI like her hair was on fire and in many ways, it was. Arriving at class wild-eyed and out of control, incapable of receiving and responding to the gist of lessons in class and life.
She’d drop her kids off in a flurry. No time to connect with their caretaker, failing to settle them in and lovingly and safely disconnect.
It was a race both ways and she’d often arrive a few minutes late to see her sweet child off the bus. One day, Terry the driver, was courageous enough to tell her he wasn’t comfortable dropping a five-year-old off at the end of a long driveway alone. She was deeply embarrassed. She was deeply grateful. She was in desperate need of gentle guidance. Years later, she graciously thanked him.
Cringing with shame and regret at all the running and terrible misses with her babies, she tries to make peace with the fact that she did the best she could.
She also acknowledges and bows to the incentive it provided, the push to seek a path toward growth, learning, and healing. And seek she did, grasping at hundreds of finish lines. She raced the track like an Olympian in her last competition, occasionally pausing to a jog here and there, until she found the one and only thing that allowed her to walk; yoga.
Over the years, areas of her life were solidifying, yet she still lacked the ability to deeply connect with others. She desperately desired to find her voice, trust her intuition, and be still.
At 62, she’s just starting to “get it”. A myriad of life’s lessons firmly landing in her heart and bones.
First and foremost, her constant searching and striving for something out there is slowing to a crawl, as she settles into the beauty and peace of a home within.
And the biggest and best transformative gift has come in the form of a partner. Fourteen months ago, she stepped into a most beautiful relationship. The work they have done together has and continues to blow her mind and heart wide open.
She is letting go and experiencing freedom as she cautiously dips her toe in, again and again, doing her best to feel it all.
Her lovely new curves nudge her past the chains of perfectionism. Body dysmorphia is still a persistent pest; the useless molten carcass is shedding. She no longer frets as much leaving for an event and having to look just right. And she humbly bows to her precious body, the vessel that affords this continued ride each day.
Her retired life is full of joy and she’s learning to allow, embrace, and relish in this new phase, the final quarter of her life.
From now on, she runs only when she wants to.
Author’s Note: in preparation for writing this piece, I designed a brain dump, writing the word “running” in the center of the page. From there the thoughts sprang forth and a web formed. Then, I went back and circled all the words and phrases that were positive outcomes. And this time around, rather than ruminating on the negative half that had continually lured me to a perpetual pity party, I chose to focus on the bright orange circled words. The fantastical results of continual hard work, up and out of my personal struggles.