Honesty

No amount of denial is going to change the fact that I am injured again. I can't stop my thoughts from racing ahead; to thinking I won't be able to run the marathon in May 2014. My first marathon. Symbolic of the mental and physical strength I have gained through running and marking the year anniversary of my uncle's suicide.

I keep thinking that if I'm going to train properly, I need six months. That means I need to start soon. So I push myself before I'm ready. I increased my mileage with both kids in the jogging stroller pushing over 60 lbs for four and five miles. And then I ran 10 miles on my long run day. Over wet and uneven trails. Of course I look back and call myself an idiot. But I was feeling strong. Wanted to challenge myself.

Now with a hip so tight I can barely bend sideways to an angle of 15 degrees, I'm telling myself I don't need physio again. I've just started back at work. Where will I find the time? So I rest for a week and then try an easy 3 miler only to have my hip seize up again.

Trying hard to fight the black mood which has slowly surfaced over three weeks of inconsistent exercise and a change in routine, my thoughts keep catastrophizing: thinking that if this doesn't get better right now, I won't be able to honor John's memory the way that feels most poignant to me.

John, who agonizingly went missing only to be found dead three days later. In the woods. After taking his own life. Alone. Found by a stranger walking her dog.

I have felt alone. I have felt that low. I run so I don't feel that way. But I can't run right now and that is what I find terrifying.

Lost

Things have been feeling a bit off lately. I know that I'm off track when my anxieties start rearing their ugly heads. When I can't think because the counter has crumbs on it. When I can't walk out the door to do errands because the dishes haven't been put away. When I absolutely have to wash my hands because a thought about germs popped into my head. And then I have to wash them again because just maybe I didn't do it well enough the first time.

I don't remember anxiety playing such a huge role in my life in the past. Depression was always the headliner. But for whatever reason - hormonal changes, age, experiences - anxiety is starting to settle down into my life and to take a permanent place. And I don't like it.

I'm starting back at work on Wednesday. Part-time. I know that I need this, but change has always been hard for me even when it is good for me.  I'm trying to manage this, the practicalities of needing to think coherently and be a professional, with leaving my children again. My baby for the first time. I am trying to fit in my running because I know that if that slips, things could end up getting a lot worse. And I am trying to negotiate the holiday season, a time that for whatever reason, always leaves me feeling homesick.

Truth be told, I'm feeling a bit lost right now. I don't like the me who is anxious, unfocused, scatterbrained, critical, and negative. These are all symptoms of my mental health slipping. Signs that things are going sour and that I better do something soon or else.  I guess the benefit of managing my mental health for the past twenty years is that I can now recognise this. And I usually know, if not exactly what needs to be done, what direction I need to point myself in.

On Being Injured

I think I found my depression the most difficult to manage when I was in high school and college. I was overflowing with teenage angst: trying to find myself and feeling defined by my feelings. I thought I was evil at times. I thought I had a blackness inside of me. I even thought my depression made me smarter and a "bigger" person. It was during these times that I was at the most risk for hurting myself because I felt that my depression was integral to who I was.

I write this looking at who I am now and how truly different I am. Perhaps some of it is age. I no longer feel the need to philosophise about things ad infinitem and while I am still introspective, it is with a lot more self understanding.

In college, a setback would last weeks and involve long spots of not speaking to my friends, who were probably very worried about me. A setback would leave me questioning my own existence and lead to suicidal thoughts.

Today, I seem to spring back much more quickly. I injured myself running my first post pregnancy 5k race and have been told by a physiotherapist to completely rest. Immediately after the injury I had continued to run until it became a sharp pain and I just couldn't carry on. After accepting that I needed professional input, my mood slowly deteriorated until I had my worst day just over a week ago. But it was only that. One day. And since that day I have been okay. I still have mood swings during the day, but I can't rule out lack of sleep and hormones as being responsible for those.

While inside I am still terrified that this injury means I will never run again, my grown up self realises that this is catastophizing. Much more, I can counteract it with realism that I actually believe. Resting now will ensure many, many more years of running. This is a temporary blip. I only had my baby six months ago and I am still breastfeeding. My body has been through enormous changes in the past year and it will take time to regain my fitness.

I don't intend to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. While my brain is hungering for that extra serotonin, I have learned enough over the years to know that I can be the one in control of things. It may be a bit more cognitive work than I would like right now, but I'll be back to running soon enough. And I'll be a stronger person both mentally and physically because of it.

Where I'm At

I haven't written in a long time because I wasn't sure I wanted to anymore. Maybe it is like this for you, too - being so constantly inside your own head that you start to doubt yourself. I think of things to write. Then over think them. And then the moment passes and it seems too late to write it down. But. Here I am again.

I have been through quite a few major life events in the past six months including giving birth, losing a loved one, and moving house. Any one of these things happening on its own could have sent me into a tailspin in the past. All three at the same time would have seen me catatonic or institutionalised. Seriously. But here I stand today on strong legs.

I plan to go into detail about those life events in later posts, but today I am back because I keep thinking of blog posts during my runs. Surely this is my brain telling me I need to process some stuff.

I set up this blog to talk about my experiences with depression and anxiety and how running helps me manage them. This weekend I was remarkably anti-anxious (for lack of a better descriptive term). Bored of running laps inside the nature reserve next to my house (even though it is beautiful), I decided to venture into unfamiliar territory. I had 7 miles to cover and didn't want to see the same paths I had covered over the past month. So without a plan I started running. My only thought was to go straight(ish) and to turn around at the halfway point.

I found it so exhilarating and liberating to run down new roads and to discover places I would have missed if I had stuck to my safe route. The area I'm living in feels like the country, but has pavement for pedestrians. This made it easy to run safely. I started to feel more anxious as more houses appeared and then more shops, but by then I was almost halfway and was proud of how far I had made it.

To get a little bit of perspective, I have a hard time going to new places. It takes me a long time to acclimatise because I can only try new things very slowly and gradually. Even in familiar towns I will walk by some shops because I have never been in them before. I can't tell you how many petrol stations I have driven by because of anxiety even though the tank is getting low. I fear looking stupid or looking like I don't know what I'm doing. So. Branching out and trying a new route was a big deal for me. Doing this without a plan or having mapped it out first was huge. Or maybe that is what made it possible...

Perhaps it is because I have been running again more regularly that I had the emotional strength to do this. Whatever the cause, I am super proud of myself for having done it. It has increased my self esteem and helped me to explore our new neighbourhood. It was such a positive experience that I took a new route again today and discovered even more things about where we are now living. I have found some new routes to run that I can add to my arsenal and I have plans to continue to explore. For now, I am filing this positive experience away to help keep me strong for the future.