New Life

You know you've worked hard when you make your own therapist cry.

If you've been reading awhile, you know that each year of my sobriety, a motto of some sort makes itself abundantly clear. Last year was "Do the uncomfortable. Do the unfamiliar." I was doing a lot of things that I was terrified of, but knew if I just ponied up and did it, I'd enjoy the results. So, with my hands shaking, I took swing dance lessons. And did a little dating. It's that new found freedom that allowed me to actually join running club when it came across my radar.

This year's motto has been, "Just do the footwork." Funny, how that fits so well with running. But in all areas of my life, I have to do the footwork. I want a new job that challenges me? I have to send out resumes. I think maybe I want a relationship? Well, I have to stop giving off the, "Stay away from me you freak of nature" vibe and start being more open. I have to talk to men. Gah. (Boys still have germs, no matter how you play your cards. It's just whose germs you're willing to put up with.) But most importantly, I've done the footwork to build a strong, vibrant personality that sometimes I still don't recognize in myself.

So this morning, I told her about my race. I told her how I felt at the finish line. How I giggled my way across and then burst into tears at the end of the chute. I told her how all my friends, unasked, came to support me, no matter how weird they think my running is. I told her about the pride I heard in my dad's voice when he called to congratulate me. And I told her that I hadn't heard that for a long, long time. And it is in direct emotional proportion to the image of him that haunts me the most. The one of him sitting on my hospital bed with his head in his hands, crying. Because I told him to leave. That he had nothing I wanted as he looked at my slashed arm and said, "Why?"

So we had a moment. I still don't have the things I dreamed of for my life. It still makes me cry sometimes. But I know that even if I never do find a husband or have a child, I'll be okay. I'll find a way to thrive anyway. I have to. I can't control those kinds of things. I just have to put my best foot forward and ask The Universe for some peace. No matter what does or does not come my way.