One Word - RUN

Each year I choose a word.  One word to define the year.  No specific goals really.  Just a direction.  A focus.

Last year my word was HEAL.  This year it's RUN.

I take my time choosing my word.  I think about it.  I ponder it.  I pray about it.  I spend a good long time observing my life, myself, the world.  And, eventually, it comes to me.

The thing is, my word is all-encompassing.  It's about every part of my life.  It's about physical, emotional, spiritual - everything.  So it's usually a word that can be used in many different ways, that can mean many different things.

RUN is different.  At least I think it is.

I never know how a word will play out.  I choose it at the beginning of the year; then at the end of the year I review.  I'm always amazed at how the word fits into all the little corners of my life.  If you read my post about last year's word, you'll see what I mean.

But right now, at this point in the year, I still can't see how my word is going to be anything but physical.

That's okay.  Maybe my word will work differently this year.  But I don't think so.  I think somehow it truly will play out in many areas of my life.

For now, I'm going to let it be what my heart wants it to be.  I want to run.

I can't believe I just wrote that sentence.  Honestly, I've mocked my running friends for years.  Although I liked to run as a child and played a lot of sports growing up, once my body changed proportions at around 14 the desire to run just for fun was gone.  Running seemed like work.  It was great for softball, a lot of work for basketball, and something I only coached for soccer.  No longer of interest to me.

My interests shifted away from sports at 14.  I joined marching band, which became my life.  Running was unnecessary.  By the time I graduated high school, I'd left any desire to run long behind.  It wasn't even visible in my rearview mirror anymore.

I got married.  I had kids.  And fifteen years ago my body fell apart.  The world fell out from under me.  I went to bed for a year and a half.

I've written about that a lot (here, here, and here are just a few).  So I'll keep it short and just say, I've been clawing my way back ever since.

Last year was my year of healing.  It led to this year - the year I will run.

Because I will.

So far this year my life and my body have fought me.  A lot.  A month of super long hours of reclamation work at our rental left me with no energy to work toward running.  Then I was hit with a bout of bronchitis for two weeks in early February, difficulty breathing and incredible fatigue.  And another bout of bronchitis from the end of February through early March.  And if there's one thing I need to be able to do if I'm going to run it's breathe.  I do have to breathe.

Right now I am still scratchy-throated.  I still feel like I'm breathing through gauze.  But that's better than feeling like I'm trying to breathe through a rock, which is how it felt when I started.

I believe it's getting better.

It will get better.

And then I will run.

A Year of Healing

My version of New Year's resolutions is One Word.  I choose one word to direct my coming year.  It's a from-the-gut choice.  I toss and turn it over in my head and heart for days or weeks, working with God to choose what I need for that year.  I've been doing it for a few years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how my year looks in retrospect wrapped in that word.

My word for 2015 was HEAL.  I went into the year not knowing how that would play out.  In most cases, I just tucked that word away in my heart and went about my life.  But once in a while something would happen and I'd notice it.  I'd notice it was an element of healing.  I was healing.

I just went back and re-read my post from the beginning of the year, when I chose this word.  I read through the list.  And I noticed things, areas of healing that had happened, that I hadn't noticed before.  I'm so grateful for that.

But, truly, the biggest change has been my body.

I've got health issues.  Nothing major, just enough to keep me from being and doing what I want.  Enough to force me to see other ways of being.  Others ways to be of value.

I started the year off very unhappy with my body.  With its size and shape.  With its open rebellion against me.  With its struggle to control me, to make me submit to its whims.  Honestly, I was frustrated that I even had to have a body, because I felt it limited me in so many ways.

But things changed.

I don't remember exactly how or when it happened.  It might have started last year.  In fact, I think it did.  Last November I decided I wanted to add some color to my hair.  Not regular color.  Purple.  And early in December, I did.  I got about six inches of the bottom of my hair bleached and dyed bright purple.  Much brighter than I'd anticipated.  And more inches than I'd planned.  (Due to my own miscommunication with my fabulous hairdresser.)  All of a sudden my hair was troll doll purple.  My Little Pony purple.  No longer subtle at all!

I'd spent years hiding in plain sight.  Trying to be subtly present in the room.  Mostly because I was very unhappy with the weight I'd gained and the way I looked.  I felt miserable and it showed.

I loved having bright hair!  It gave me such a lift.  But I wasn't prepared for how others would react to it.  Suddenly, when I walked into a room, there was no question people would be looking at me.  It often made me uncomfortable.  But I have always tried to stand behind my decisions, even if they don't seem to make any sense to anyone else.  I've tried to live by the principle that I shouldn't make any decision, take any action, that I wouldn't be okay if it were exposed to the world.  Stand behind my choices - that's me!

So I decided to embrace it.  I decided to embrace me.  I shared photos of my hair on Facebook.  It was fun seeing how it faded and sharing that, too.  But I hated pictures of my face, so it was tricky to share my hair unless I had someone else take pictures from behind.  I have lots of picture of the back and sides of my hair, with my head leaning so that my hair fell mostly in front of my face.  Because I didn't like my fat face.

Again, I don't know the exact day it happened, but I decided to stop hiding from pictures.  I decided to allow pictures of myself, even some I didn't like, to be seen.  I decided the picture was just a moment.  Even if I didn't like how I looked in that moment, I liked who I was.  And I wanted to remember that moment and have evidence of my presence.

And in the midst of this, there were other changes happening.  I was healing in other ways.  Invisible, inside ways.

In February I heard the words that changed me forever.  In February I found the key that turned off the self-harm switch inside me.  I February I gave up self-harm for good.  Something I knew I was supposed to heal, needed to heal, but didn't want to heal.  I trusted.  I was healed.

This year I came to a healthier relationship with my dad.  I found my footing.  Mostly through taking care of my mom together, he and I have found a new respect for each other.  A new gratitude for each other.  Healing

I've come to a much healthier place with my mom as well.  As she's changing, as her world is changing, I'm finding my footing there as well.  It's been a tough slog.  It's going to get tougher still.  But I understand and accept it better now.  And that helps.  I feel less burdened and more compassionate.  And I feel love toward her.  The kind of love that's been missing for a while.  A healing love.  I'm grateful for that.

But the most noticeable healing I've experienced has been physical.  At the beginning of the year, I was a slug.  I could move and get things done, but everything exhausted me.  Everything was a huge burden.  I'd do what needed to be done and head straight back to bed.  I was so tired and miserable and uncomfortable in my own body.

Again, I don't remember exactly when it happened.  But I know it started before my physical.  As I was approaching my physical, I was evaluating things and had decided I wanted to get off one of the medications I was on.  And, dang it, I wanted to talk to my doctor about losing weight.  My body wanted to move.

Now that I think about it, I think that was how it started.  My body ached.  I lay in my bed aching, and I knew it was because my body wanted to move.  And my brain wanted my body to move.  But I was so exhausted.  Completely depleted.  I had nothing more to push my body with.  Gravity was pulling so hard.

But I wanted to move.

So at my physical, I talked to my doctor.  We made a couple of medication changes.  And I made a plan.  Eat better.  Move.  That was the gist of it.  And that's what I did.  I changed how and what I ate.  And I started walking.

Since then I've walked three 5ks; I ran a little in the last one.  I've injured myself (plantar fasciitis and shin splints), because I pushed too hard too fast.  (Hopefully, I've learned something and will do better now.)  I added bodyweight exercises.  I did some yoga.  I've done some Just Dance.  A little of this, a little of that.  I shared it all on Facebook, to keep myself accountable.  Exercise is now something that's a part of my life.  Part of who I am.  Part of who I want to be.  I want to be a runner!

And, let me just tell you, those are words I never thought I'd say.  I had no intention of running.  I started out walking.  I walked and walked.  Miles and miles.  (Which in and of itself was amazing to me and everyone around me.)  It was in my last 5k, the one where I pushed my body too far and it rebelled.  The one where I ran some.

Hurting.  Crying.  My body ached.  But not because of the injury.  My body ached to run.  I ached to run.  Weird.

I'm still working toward that.  It's a two steps forward, one step back thing.  My body doesn't recover like it used to.  I can't just decide I'm going to go push it for hours and hours and not pay for it like I could in high school.  These days, the cost of pushing is a bit higher.  But not too high.  Not so high that it's not worth it.  And if I pace myself instead of diving off the cliff, which is my inclination, I can do it.  Baby steps.  I'm working on that.

Since May I've lost 33 pounds.  I've gone down a pant size.  I've lost inches here and there.  My face has thinned.  And all of that's great.  But it's not what's most important.

I feel like I've found me.  Like my body and I are working together again.  I've proven I can do this.  I'm not at complete peace about my body all the time, but I'm doing so much better.  I'm so much happier.  I feel more whole.

Like each year in the past, I will carry this word forward with me.  It will remain in my heart.  It will continue to drive me in ways I won't notice until I look back.

And I'm so excited to share my word for 2016!  But that'll be tomorrow.

Self-Harm and the Words That Made Me Want to Stop

***This post contains material that could potentially be triggering for anyone with a history of self-harm.  Please do not continue if you aren't safe right now.***

I purposely and knowingly hurt myself for the first time on December 14, 2006.  I used a broken plastic spoon to scratch three deep lines into my forearm.  Later that night I burned myself with a candle.  And it felt good.

There is no way for someone like me to explain this to someone like you if you haven't been there.

My brain says it shouldn't feel good.  My brain says it's not something that's okay to do.  And my brain knows it will bother the people around me.

But it does feel good.  And it doesn't feel like a big deal.  And in that moment of darkness, I don't care how others feel about it.

At least that's the way it's been.  In the past.  It's been a little over eight years since I first did it.  And while I understood it wasn't a healthy coping mechanism and I should probably stop, I have never wanted to stop.  Not once.

I tried to want to.  I wanted to want to.  But I just didn't.  I didn't want to give it up.  And, honestly, I just wasn't fully converted to the idea that it was important for me to give it up.

Last October (2014) I burned myself.  I mean, I really burned myself.  And it ended my relationship with my therapist.  Which led to me seeing a new therapist.

As my new therapist and I got to know each other I told him about how many therapists I'd seen over the years.  There have been many in my life.  I go for a while without seeing anyone and then, when I know the issue I'm dealing with is too big for me alone, I pray and ask God which therapist is the right one to help me through this moment.

This is the point when my new therapist asked me what I was seeing him for.  What was he supposed to help me with, whether I wanted to do it or not?

And, boy, wasn't that final qualifier just the clincher for me?  Didn't that phrase tell me I was with exactly the person I needed to see?

I looked him in the eye and told him he and I were to heal the self-harm problem I have.  That I didn't want to give it up.  But that I would work on it with him because I believed God wanted me to.

And I didn't see how I was ever going to want to give it up.

I have been seeing him about every two weeks since early November.  We've taken various approaches.  We've found things that I believe will help me and a few that didn't really fit.

And then, on February 17, he said something in passing that was a game changer for me.  I don't remember the exact words.  He was talking about helping me get more tools in my toolbox so I don't pass the trauma on.

And that was the moment.  I heard in my head and wrote on my paper, "When I self-harm, I pass the trauma on."

I am causing trauma to my children.

And that was the slap I needed.  I am in therapy to heal for them.  I am working so hard to make their world better.  To find the answers they will need in the future by doing the work myself.  And to end a long line of dysfunction.  My goal was to make the trauma stop with me.  I had hoped that I would be its last victim.

But when I hurt myself, it hurts them.  And that's just absolutely not okay with me.

So I'm done.

I can't promise I won't engage in any other unhealthy behaviors as I continue to work my way through my incredibly tangled past.  But I will never, ever purposely hurt myself again.

And that's a promise!

Are You Ready to Feel Better?

In July of 2005 I got a very bad headache.  A debilitating headache.  It didn't go away for a couple of weeks so I sought medical treatment.  Long story short, I still have it.  Lots of tests and doctors and treatments later.  No answers.  But that's not what this post is about.

I got the headache.  We tried a bunch of stuff, including Lortab.  It was great and made me feel awesome, but it didn't take the headache away.  And it made it difficult for me to function as a mother and an employee.  So I quit taking it and just didn't take anything for several months.  The headache intensity fluctuated.  If it got too bad, I just took a nap.  The pain meds weren't worth the trade off of being completely non-functional and the rebound headaches I'd get.

But in October of 2006 my headache got bad and stayed bad for quite a while.  I went to the doctor and desperately asked if there was something else we could try.  Wasn't there something that could help that wouldn't make me feel like a zombie?

He said it was time to go to the pain clinic.  Again, that's another story for another day.  But there's one element that needs to be told for this post to have meaning.

In addition to the regular medical stuff we would try with the doctors, they wanted me to meet with their psychologist.  I don't remember his name, and he has since retired.  Let's just call him Dr. Old Guy.

So I met with Dr. Old Guy.  He said we would work on bio-feedback and relaxation.  He gave me a cd and told me he wanted me to spend thirty minutes twice a day listening to it and practicing guided relaxation.  I may possibly have laughed in his face at the idea of two thirty minute relaxation sessions a day.  He said the fact that it seemed impossible to me was just a sign that we were on the right track.  Whatever.

So I did it and came back to meet with him again.  And as we walked into his office for our second appointment he asked me a question that has stuck with me ever since.  Haunted me?  Maybe.  He asked, "Are you ready to feel better?"

It kind of stopped me in my tracks.

Now it could very well have been one of those things that really doesn't mean anything.  It could have just been his way of saying, "Let's get started."

But I pondered it.  I analyzed it.  I agonized over it.

Was there something I was gaining from having this headache that made me resistant to healing and was that why I wasn't getting better?

At the time it seemed ridiculous.  What good was there in a headache?  It had caused so much stress in my life.  It had disrupted so many of my plans.  It would eventually be the reason I had to quit my job.  How on earth could anyone think I was choosing this?  Was I choosing it?

The reason any of this matters all these years later is because of my word for the year.  I chose HEAL as my word for 2015.  And I still hear this question in my head.  "Are you ready to feel better?"

And I still don't know the answer.

A Time to Heal

It's a new year.  A fresh start.  Sure, there's no big difference between December 31st and January 1st, but there actually is.  People all over the world are taking this opportunity to examine their lives and decide what they want to change.  How they want to improve.

I love that!  It feels like a moment of unity for our entire species.  That doesn't happen often.

I don't do resolutions, but I do examine my life and look for a new focus.  I choose ONE WORD.  There will be one word that guides my year.  I never know exactly how it will play out.  Some of it is how I change my actions; some of it is the natural flow of life; and I believe God brings people and experiences into my life to help me, because I've opened my heart up to Him in that way.

In the past I've sometimes stewed over what word to choose for the next year.  Other times I just instantly knew.  This was one of the latter.  As soon as I thought about the new year and what I wanted to focus on, a word came to my mind.  Clear and strong and spoken.

Would I go so far as to say God chose this word for me?  Yes, I would.
This year God wants me to HEAL.

The word and a feeling came strongly.  But the feeling was an open one.  Heal is my word, but much of how I interpret that will morph throughout the year.  What I do with that word is largely up to me.

So when I was given that word the first thing that came to mind was working on my physical health (which I think is the direction most people who know me would also go with it).  I have some health struggles that I've sought answers for over the past several years - to no avail.  They interfere with the life I want to live.  They interfere with relationships.  They interfere with who I want to be.

Then I felt selfish.  Always looking at how my life will change.  Always focused on me.  Maybe it's meant to be an outward thing.  Maybe I'm meant to heal others.  Who would I want to heal?  My family, my friends, my parents, the world.  But I don't actually have the power to heal others.  I have the power to help others heal, but only God can truly heal.  And maybe He and I will spend some time working together to help others heal.  I'm open to that.

In order to figure out what God was really asking of me, I pulled inside of myself.  I took a deep breath.  I opened my heart.  And I asked, "What does this mean, this word heal, for me this year?"

And then I wrote:
 - finances
 - past
 - Christmas
 - physical health
 - food issues/habits
 - house
 - garden/yard
 - car management
 - Mother's Day/Father's Day/Parents' birthdays
 - my boundaries/obligations/desires for relationship with my parents
 - mental health separate from my past
 - spiritual health?
 - daily habits/time management
 - relationships?
 - from relationships
 - coping strategies
 - self-soothing
 - self-care
 - household
 - computer
 - writing
 - my relationship with my body*
 - wanting
 - codependence
 - control issues

So, not much.  (Just kidding on that not much thing.)

The question marks were because I'm not sure if He and I think that is an area I need to work on this year or if it's just something I felt I should add (seriously, a moment of allowing myself to be directed by societal expectations; sheesh).  The asterisk is because I felt added intensity from Him on that one.

I know some of these may not make sense.  Some of them don't seem to fit.  But they do.  And they do make sense in my head and my heart, even while they are still left free-floating and undefined - waiting to be discovered.

Because that is part of the magic of choosing one word.  My year is spent in discovery.  How and why does my word apply in this situation, whatever the situation may be?  How does applying my word to this experience affect my growth and my happiness and my peace?  How will this word change who I am?

It's a wonderful journey for me.  Full of magic.  And wonder.  And inspiration.  And challenge.  And failure.  And growth.

I can't wait!