Once a year, and thankfully only once a year, I have to visit my local oncologist and today was that day. She's a nice enough person, and a good doctor, but I dread this appointment nonetheless. Truth be told, deep down I know I'll very likely receive the same news as last year; "You're slightly anemic, but your blood counts are holding steady and nothing has changed." This is, truly, good news. I get to live another year. But no matter how optimistic I am that each year will be the same, there's still a part of me that wonders if this will be the year I instead hear "your white blood counts have gone through the roof and we need to find out if it's spreading." They say that day might not ever come, but also that it could. It could be next year, or in 5 years, or 20, or never. And until then, I live in one-year increments. I get to live another year, but what about the year after that or the next one after that?
I spend a fair amount of time in between these annual visits reminding (convincing?) myself that if it was spreading I'd know it. I would feel different. Something would hurt. I'd be exhausted (well, I am but I know it's from hard training and not getting enough sleep). I wouldn't feel good after eating. Something. I like to think that I know my body pretty well and am pretty tuned into what is going on after all these years and especially the years of running and training and listening to my body every single day. But would I? Would I really have some warning? Or will I one day show up at my yearly appointment and have the surprise sprung on me that not all is as good as I had thought? I don't obsess over it (well, maybe a little because I am the obsessive type), but it's always just kind of there in the back of my mind. And I go to my yearly appointment, and I see the people in the waiting area, or receiving treatment, and I think "that's probably going to be me some day."
And that, that, is why I run. That is why I train and push my body. That is why I try to eat as healthy as I can (and organic as much as possible). I have to do what I can, whether it actually helps or not, to try to decrease my odds of getting that bad news because I've got a lot of life left to experience and things I want to do.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Monday, September 11, 2017
Failure
The thing about failure is that it mostly matters to no one but yourself. Nobody cares that you didn't accomplish what you set out to do. Nobody cares that you worked really, really hard and it wasn't good enough. Nobody cares that you really put yourself out there just to try in the first place. Nobody, but you. And when you are your own harshest critic, frankly, failure feels just as big and as bad as it would if everyone else did care.
I have failed at numerous things in my life, but it has never gotten easier. I've learned and grown from most of those failures, but they still sting. I have forgotten many of my failures over the years, but some of them still haunt me regularly. I have gone back for redemption, sometimes succeeding and sometimes finding that I've failed that too. And while that stings the most, what I've learned is that I. AM. NOT. A. QUITTER. even when sometimes i am . . .
To the outside world, I have it all together, but inside my head I hear the constant scream of "Failure! You are a failure!" It's not the 1/3 (almost) success rate in my Half Iron quests. It's not the soul crushing day to day life of my work. It's not the daily feeling of not being good enough . . . for my kids, for my husband, for my clients. It's not my incredibly high standards I hold for myself, even when I know those standards are nothing short of ridiculous. But, if it's not any of these things . . . then what is it?
If I were to say that the last 2 1/2 years of my life have been incredibly difficult, I wouldn't be lying, or joking or even exaggerating. Everything has been turned upside down and I'm still grasping for some normalcy, some resemblance to something that makes me think that when the dust finally settles it will all be okay. I've had many people tell me how strong I am, how strong I was and how they don't know how they would have gotten through. I got through it, but here I am almost 3 years later wondering how, knowing I'm not as strong as anyone thought, knowing I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done and heck, they probably would have done it better, more confidently, and even had some fun along the way. They would have handled the situation with success, not still be dwelling on what will never be almost 3 years later.
Who is this person? What happened to that woman who would do whatever she said she'd do, even when no one else thought she could? How did she end up chasing goals just to prove to herself that there's still some of that in her? How did she end up thinking she was a failure even when she succeeds? Who is this person I have become? And how do I make her go away so I can find the real me again?
And yet, here we are. I get up every day. I make my kids lunch, and get them off to school with hugs and kisses and lots of love. I push client work out the door and earn a living. I eat as healthy as I can and run, and run and run and run. I walk my dog, run with my kids and tell my husband I love him (and unlike a lot of married people, I actually mean it). I read, and knit and clean up around the house and then go to bed and do it all over again, and again and again. I wonder if this is all there is, and if so, is this failure? Is there something else out there that will allow me to find success? Or at least to stop feeling like I'm failing everyone, including myself, by never being enough?
I have failed at numerous things in my life, but it has never gotten easier. I've learned and grown from most of those failures, but they still sting. I have forgotten many of my failures over the years, but some of them still haunt me regularly. I have gone back for redemption, sometimes succeeding and sometimes finding that I've failed that too. And while that stings the most, what I've learned is that I. AM. NOT. A. QUITTER. even when sometimes i am . . .
To the outside world, I have it all together, but inside my head I hear the constant scream of "Failure! You are a failure!" It's not the 1/3 (almost) success rate in my Half Iron quests. It's not the soul crushing day to day life of my work. It's not the daily feeling of not being good enough . . . for my kids, for my husband, for my clients. It's not my incredibly high standards I hold for myself, even when I know those standards are nothing short of ridiculous. But, if it's not any of these things . . . then what is it?
If I were to say that the last 2 1/2 years of my life have been incredibly difficult, I wouldn't be lying, or joking or even exaggerating. Everything has been turned upside down and I'm still grasping for some normalcy, some resemblance to something that makes me think that when the dust finally settles it will all be okay. I've had many people tell me how strong I am, how strong I was and how they don't know how they would have gotten through. I got through it, but here I am almost 3 years later wondering how, knowing I'm not as strong as anyone thought, knowing I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done and heck, they probably would have done it better, more confidently, and even had some fun along the way. They would have handled the situation with success, not still be dwelling on what will never be almost 3 years later.
Who is this person? What happened to that woman who would do whatever she said she'd do, even when no one else thought she could? How did she end up chasing goals just to prove to herself that there's still some of that in her? How did she end up thinking she was a failure even when she succeeds? Who is this person I have become? And how do I make her go away so I can find the real me again?
And yet, here we are. I get up every day. I make my kids lunch, and get them off to school with hugs and kisses and lots of love. I push client work out the door and earn a living. I eat as healthy as I can and run, and run and run and run. I walk my dog, run with my kids and tell my husband I love him (and unlike a lot of married people, I actually mean it). I read, and knit and clean up around the house and then go to bed and do it all over again, and again and again. I wonder if this is all there is, and if so, is this failure? Is there something else out there that will allow me to find success? Or at least to stop feeling like I'm failing everyone, including myself, by never being enough?
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