My Marathon Journey
The idea of running a marathon was a huge part of what got me into running. It is the first distance I 'trained' (loosely at least) for, and ever since crossing the line of my first one in 2015 I have been enthralled by the beauty of it. I ran my first one almost entirely with my head, just to prove to myself I could.
The value in the struggle of therapy.
That is perhaps the first struggle of any type of psychotherapy or deep internal work; the anxiety and fear. It is confronting to walk into a room knowing I am going to be asked to face up to my true self and explore my deepest reality. Sure I could hide behind the masks I have been crafting for years, but that would negate the reason for being there in the first place. Instead I have learned to see the anxiety for what it is; a positive. It is a sign that what I am doing means something to me, and is important. If I didn't have a sense of anxiety before being in a situation that evokes such powerful feelings of vulnerability and pain, I would say either the walls I have up are so thick I have even myself fooled, or I have somehow become so wise and content that I have nothing internal worth working through. Thankfully, I am years beyond my protective layer being thick enough to fool myself, but I am also many lifetimes away from having nothing internal I can do to improve my wellbeing.
When each day became a gift.
Total: 15.2km in 60 mins. 38 laps of a track. In the middle parts of the workout where the speeds were fastest, I hit an 18:25 5km split, a 38:19 10km split, and a 59:15 15km. 12 months ago my PB's over those distances in races weren't even that fast; let alone at 30 degrees celsius, 3000m altitude, at night, alone, on a treadmill. I lie back and shut my eyes, trying to take in the moment of again realising that after all the doubts and fears going into this session, I am again more capable that I realised. The only reason I now know that, is because I threw caution to the wind and had a crack. A tear comes to my eyes as the exhausted relief sets in, and I make the connection that right now, in my day to day being and doing, I am genuinely living the life my 8 year old self dreamed of.
Finding the right support.
We try to forget about all the times I was turned away. All the times I got stuck in between with seemingly nowhere to turn. We have been turned away from help because I wasn't sick enough, because I was too sick, because lived the wrong place or because I ran out of eligibility. We have knocked on doors of hope only to be told they couldn't be opened for us for one reason or another. We have spent painful time waiting at home on packed lists; with Mum being the one burdened with having to learn how to care for me and me feeling like I was ruining not only my life but hers and my families too. I prefer being in hospital or in other people's care, because not only do they know more of how to help but also it takes away so much guilt. Home is supposed to be where I am loved and supported, but not where I am put under hospital protocol and my family is subject to all the horrible things this illness makes me do. It's not their fault I am like this as much as it isn't mine.