TWLOHA's Run For It 5k

This past Saturday I completed TWLOHA's "Run For It 5k". The actual 5k takes place in Florida, but thankfully they know not everyone can make it over there for one day so they facilitate a virtual 5k for everyone to participate in their own hometown.

I've been walking and working on running these past two months.  The walking part has been easy for me, but the running has been pure evil. I hate it. Either my legs give out on me or my lungs. After a month of trying to get a slow run for just 0.5mi, I finally did it! Well, just for one day. Everyday after that I couldn't seem to get the endurance back up. It's been exhausting and frustrating and discouraging, but I keep working on it.

The day of the race I woke up at 7:30am, hoping that it wouldn't be raining during my walk/run. I crawled out of bed tired and blurry eyed from falling asleep at 3am, slipped into my clothes, pulled on my shoes and stretched. I selected my "You Can Do It!" playlist and quietly exited the house.

It seemed to be a sleepy morning for everyone that Saturday. Usually there are folks out mowing their lawns or kids playing outside, but the whole time I was out there I saw maybe two cars driving by and one person grabbing their mail. With the cool, cloudy weather it felt mysteriously enchanting.

That day I decided to push myself and really run like I hadn't run before. For every two to three minutes I walked I would need to run for exactly one minute. It wasn't easy, but I did it regardless. Before I knew it, I had hit the 3.1mi mark at 42 minutes! I marked it down and kept going... I wanted to see if I could make it to 4 miles. As I rounded the corner on the last street, I looked up at the big hill (more like mountain!) I had to go over before I could run downhill straight to our house.

Each step got harder to take and my breathing wasn't as well regulated as I had been maintaining it so far. "Afterlife" by Ingrid Michelson came on and tears formed in my eyes. I was almost done. I had done the race and had kept going. My body had carried me this far and was going up the big, dreaded hill without faltering. The same body that had accomplished this so well was the same body that is dealing with infertility. This body of mine suffers a heartbreaking loss every month without fail.  This body that has a 6% chance of getting pregnant is the same body that found the strength to run bravely. How is it possible? I was thankful for what it could do in that moment and grieving what it hasn't been able to do these past three years.

That day I was running for two things: my (and other women's) journey with Infertility and my journey with self-harm. Two very big things that I have been fighting.

In those 4 miles I wasn't able to suddenly get pregnant or have absolutely no desire to hurt myself, but in those 4 miles I was able to remember that the fight to stay alive was worth fighting.

This year I'm going to try fighting for me. I have a 10k, another 5k, and a half marathon to complete this year. And in July, I'll be purchasing my ticket to participate in Disney's Princess 10k for next year. There is so much emotionally tangled with the Disney one. This fight is hard and it's exhausting and most of the time I have to struggle to believe that I am not fighting a losing battle. One way I'm "guaranteeing" my entry into next year is to plan something big, different, and exciting. Disney's Princess 10k is perfect for that.

I don't know what the rest of this year will look like, but I know that I'm a little stronger and I'm just trying to take it one day, one race at a time. It's all I can do right now and it'll have to be enough.

Some of My Favorite Things

26. Watching Hallmark Christmas movies while my dogs are keeping me warm

27. Wrapping Christmas presents

28. Watching Doctor Who with Josie

29. Preparing my Christmas Eve dinner menu

30. Turning on all the Christmas lights

31. Doing random acts of kindness for people

32. Leggings

33. Being able to curl my hair with a straighter (big accomplishment for someone like me!)

34. White Chili

35. My "Be Yourself Unless You Can Be A Unicorn" phone case

36. The smell of Christmas trees

37. Playing Super Mario Bros. with Nate

Griefsgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I know most people celebrate and acknowledge this holiday, but I've never really understood why. It's a food holiday. It's the day when all your family gets together and pigs out on good (and sometimes strange looking) food. Some families even gather around the TV to watch football. But at the core of this holiday it's always about the delicious food coma.

Oh.
And giving thanks.

I always hated that moment right before the prayer over the food where everyone was required to go around and say what they were most thankful for this year. We give thanks or as I like to call it: Humble Bragging.

Now I don't want to take away from the people who actually are giving thanks for the good in their life. Their genuine gratefulness while sitting in the tension of life is always a breath of fresh air, but most of the time I find myself listening to the "truly blessed' going on and on about how "thankful" they are for this thing and that thing and how much they have to brag be thankful for this year. And of course we all know if it's said with a sweet smile and a "Praise Jesus" it's not at all bragging.

I'm curious about what it would look like to have a Griefsgiving instead of a Thanksgiving.

Haha. I know, it's not a good "happy holiday" name and really, who wants to be apart of that lame, tear filled holiday.

Well.... I kinda do.

I'd like to be apart of a circle where we aren't desperately grabbing onto things to "feel" thankful for or humble bragging. A safe, circle with real people with real problems who say "This year has been a real shit storm because of... And today I am thankful that I didn't scream at my wife/husband/kids/dogs/cats/hamsters, or reduce myself into a pile of shameful lies about my body, or drink myself into oblivion or cut myself."

How would it be to stand in a circle where we can literally be thankful for the huge life-changing moments we  have, but don't share with people for fear of revealing our dark secrets and having judgement passed on us.

A friend of mine texted me this past week and asked me how gratitude felt amidst my grief and sorrow.

I sat staring at the message for awhile surprised by the question. I wasn't surprised that she had asked the question...she's one of the few people who would be brave enough to ask that question. It was surprising because of how kind that question felt to my heart. Here amidst all this shit of infertility and grief and one beautiful person stood up in that mess and offered my heart a chance to breathe. A brilliant glimmer of kindness. Someone had been loving enough to address the elephant in the room.

I responded that while I knew that there were things to be grateful for, it all felt forced and fake when I try to name anything.  

Forced and Fake.

I don't think that's what giving thanks is supposed to look like and yet all too often it does. I feel like I can't stand up and say that I am thankful that I had the energy to clean the house, or didn't pressure myself about the future or what the holidays are supposed to look like, or that my battle with self-harm isn't winning, or that I am even breathing at this very second because I don't want to die. But guess what? That's exactly what I am thankful for this year. Those things are real and brutally raw and honest.

Infertility has stolen so much from me these past couple years. My heart breaks every freaking day. I can't go to the mall and not run back into my car sobbing because I saw a beautiful mother holding her tiny baby. I struggle every day with fighting for my life, finding worth in myself, and figuring out what is real and true. It's a battle I was sure I would lose and yet, somehow, I'm still here.

So while everyone celebrates their Thanskgiving, me and my husband will be wrapping our arms around each other, taking a deep breath before being surrounded by everything our hearts ache for and we'll be having a private Griefsgiving in our hearts.

It might not catch on as a real holiday, but if you want to sit in the grief and be genuinely honest I'll be here today, tomorrow, and hopefully every day after that. We'll give a tearful thanks for what's been lost and what we're fighting for today.

What I Grieve Every Day Because Of Infertility:

Seeing a positive pregnancy stick

Telling N that I'm pregnant

Hearing my baby's heart beat for the first time

Feeling N hold my hand while we look at our baby for the first time

Having a sonogram that showed us a tiny baby growing inside of me

Getting lots of sonogram pictures to post on the fridge and one in a frame for our wall

Finding out the sex of the baby

Sharing the news with all of our families

Picking out new names for the baby or using the ones we already have in mind

Having the cliche pregnancy announcement pictures taken. I always liked the one with the parent's shoes and then the tiny little shoes with the "coming soon" underneath.

Going baby shopping

Planning a nursery for the room upstairs

Dragging my pregnant body to baby showers

Feeling my baby move inside of me

Being annoyed that people feel it's okay to touch my pregnant belly without asking

People asking me about my pregnancy

Getting to talk about being pregnant

Capturing each month of my pregnancy in cute pictures

Deciding whether to breast feed or use formula

Holding my baby inside of my body for 9 months

Having N touch and talk to my big belly

Just being pregnant and all that it involves physically

Lack of sleep

Going to classes

Knowing that my family has all gathered together in the waiting room while I'm in labor

Labor

Holding my baby for the first time

The Fight For Life...

Choosing life and fighting to stay with that choice is hard. It's a battle that never seems to find an end.

In the past 2 years I've fought for different things. I've fought to dream, hope, believe, and trust. I've fought to keep going with trying to get pregnant even when there were no positive results. I've fought to stay calm during scary procedures and surgery. And finally I had to choose to fight for me. Fight to stay alive. I've had to put dreams in a cardboard box and place them in the storage room of my mind so that I can fight for life and not death.

I've put a lot of pressure on myself these past two months to heal quickly. I've fought against my grief and pain so that I can "get a grip" and "cope" better. And then I fought to stop numbing out to every single goddamn thing so that I can name truth about how I am really feeling. 

It's just one big fight that never ends. 

And all I can think about is how tired I am. 

How tired I am of fighting....especially when I have to fight for good things. 

N always reminds me how strong I am...that I've been fighting a long time...and I'm still here. 

I've been fighting in my late twenties to stay alive and not self harm. 

I've been fighting since my mid/late twenties to get pregnant. 

I've been fighting since my early twenties to deal my childhood/teenage baggage and fight the glorious fight of just being who I am. 

I was fighting in my late teens to believe that fairy tales did exist even though I was scared, lonely, naive, and just got a guy who wanted to get off and use me. 

I was fighting since my late teens to stay alive and not take the final exit. It had to get better, right? 

I was fighting in my late teens with an eating disorder, self-harming, and extreme self-contempt. 

I was fighting my whole childhood/teenage years to know if I was really loved and worth anything. 

I was fighting my whole childhood/teenage years with knowing I deserved to be seen and noticed and respected even thought no one else seemed to think that. 

I fought my whole childhood/teenage years to keep from drowning in the noise and chaos of parents who were fighting and screaming constantly. 

I was fighting when I was a little bitty girl to keep from remembering something horrible and traumatic that occurred because everyone trusted this person to be alone with me. 

I was fighting when I was born to stay alive and not die in NICU. 

My whole life has felt like one fight after another. Since the day I came into this world I have been fighting. And more often then not I wonder whether it's worth it to keep fighting. 

My heart is tired and broken, but somehow it's still alive and beating. 

It's strange. 

And I guess astounding.   

The Thoughts In My Head

1. Suicide. I have stared down this precipice several times during these past two years. I've struggled with it in the past and since those times I have never dealt with something so emotional traumatic that triggered all those thoughts...until now.

I read an article last night about how suicide is a completely selfish act and those that choose that path are completely selfish for leaving their loved ones behind to pick up all the pieces. I've had a few people tell me that. Some have said it in regular conversation and others have said it directly towards to my situation. Every single damn time I have heard "suicide" and "selfish" in the same sentence my stomach has always turned. I fight back anger and nausea at those words.

"How dare you think of leaving this earth and not think about the people you will leave behind. Do you even know how devastated it will leave them. Did you even think about what they will have to go through after you willingly leave. You are so selfish to do that to them."


How dare I do that to them. How dare I, who is completely devastated and broken and ripped apart, someone who sits in the darkness every single day, who fights to stay alive every single second, someone who is scared and alone, how dare I not think past my own immediate pain and think of someone else's future pain.

I want to state that I completely understand what people are really trying to communicate. I know that it is their heart crying and breaking at the thought of losing you and they want need you to know how loved you are and how they cannot think of living through life without you.
So why can't we just say that?

Why can't people cry and hold someone's hand and say:

 "I love you. I know that everything is so dark right now, but I need you to know that I am right here. You need to know that I love you so much. Please choose to stay a little longer. Please stay for you. Not me. Stay because you are worth it."

Stay because you are worth it vs Stay because otherwise you are selfish


Suicide is such a complicated matter. There are two sides.
One side contains the person considering/committing suicide
and
the other side contains the people who will be/are left behind.

I've been on both sides of the spectrum.


Currently I am walking away from the precipice. It's never easy to walk away. When everything is dark and painful, you can't see past what's beating you down. You can't think of other people. You can't always think about how your death will leave them feeling.
It's almost like blood is rushing into your ears leaving you unable to hear anything except what's happening in your own body. But we fight. We fight for one more second, one more minute, one more hour, one more day. We live to fight another day. And sometimes we can't fight anymore.
At the precipice we have two options, life or death.
Which one will we fight for today? Which one will win today?

As for me, I'm choosing another day of life. Actually I've chosen a few more months of life. I don't know what happens after that...I've given myself the freedom to not worry about it and to cross the bridge when I get there. As for today, I fought for life. Life for me. Not for someone else....just me.
That doesn't make me selfless... I'm not choosing to stay for other people....honestly other than my husband I can't even begin to care what other people think of my life or death. I'm being selfish. Today I fight for me.



2. Finding My Voice.
I don't think of myself as a strong person. I can be strong when I need to be, but I've never associated it along with my identity....along with who I am. But in the past two years, I have found a strength that I didn't know I had. It's not a loud strength and it's definitely not there every day. It pops up in the strangest moments and spurs me on towards whatever lies ahead. The places I've seen it show up the most is when I am being hurt or taken advantage of.

These past two years have slowly marched me towards standing up for myself regardless of the cost.
I will not stand by anymore and let people walk over me. I will set boundaries and hard, severe ones if need be. I will let my voice be heard even when it threatens the peace.

My voice.
It's has always been kept quiet and defeated after years and years of training and conditioning. Yet these two years have given my voice a courage I can't even begin to grasp. It's hard to explain. All I know is, I have changed and my voice has changed and I won't be steamrolled anymore by anyone.


3. God.
Unknown to anyone, expect my husband and counselor, my faith has taken a sharp detour of a cliff. I have been left hanging on to a god that has left me feeling unheard, unseen, abandoned, worthless, etc. While other's around me seem to be holding onto a secure faith that "God will work things out for the best.", "God is always here with us.", and  "God is in control of everything."  I have been seen all those things violently shredded in front of me.

Some people go through hard times or tragedy and come out stronger in their faith...never doubting their God and his infinite power. They encourage those who are hurting to dive into "The Word" and "Seek God"... "He will show himself if you are listening.".

My whole life I have tried to see who God really is. I've shed old views and picked up new ones. I've felt connected and disconnected to Him. I've always trusted that He cares about me...that He loves me.
These past two years have shaken me to the core. I've listened and sought and wept and fought. I may see small things here and there, but overall I have been left confused and angry.
Apparently I am dealing with a "crisis of faith".

I have decided to just shed everything...I don't really know if I am a "Christian" or not anymore.
I do believe that there is a god out there. I believe that he does exist. I believe that Jesus died and rose again. I didn't choose to believe those things lightly...I've sat with it for awhile. I mean, I can't really figure out anything else if I don't decided whether or not I believe those core things, right? So deep inside of me, I feel that these things are real and so I believe that.

Past all that though, I am totally over it.
I haven't darkened the doors of a church in months. I don't know if I will ever go back. I don't know where any of this will lead or end. I just know that slowly I will figure it out and figure out what I believe regardless of what my friends or the general populous believes.

I have some other thoughts on this subject, but for right now I'll leave it here....

Happiness.

I'm sitting here in the quiet surrounded by a half lit/half dark room. It's been another day of me sitting on the couch watching YouTube videos and Netflix bingeing. It's not unusual behavior...in fact...it's becoming the new norm in my life. The safety and quietness of my house contains my tears and pain without the questions or strange looks or the need to pretend.

This weekend I've had to pick myself up and push myself out the door with the desire to not miss the time offered to me by a friend. And on Monday night I gathered up the strength, slapped a smile on my face, pushed down the pain and went out to celebrate a dear friends birthday, but even up until all those moments I was wrapped up in blankets in the dark.

I don't feel happy.

Yet, when I post on Facebook or Instagram I look happy...and truth be told in those captured moments I was as close to happiness as I could possibly be.

I look at my face in the pictures from Monday and this weekend and good god, I look so happy. I want to run back and just sit in those moments forever. I even cried last night about how I just wish "I could be happy again."

I remember what true happiness feels like...it's just been a really, really, really long time since I have felt that deep in my bones. It's weird to me that I can feel some happiness...a temporary happiness and then as quickly as it was there it suddenly disappears again. Small moments that I make sure to snap a picture of so I can look back and puzzle over the smile that desperately is trying to mask the overwhelming pain I feel.

I wonder how it looks to other people who might know all or some of the pain I'm going through. Does it puzzle them that I can write/cry/isolate myself, but suddenly show up in a picture looking full of life and happiness? I feel conflicted between hiding forever in this darkness and not wanting to miss the life events of other's around me. Goddammit. I feel shame for looking/feeling happy and then coming home and stripping my clothes and mask off and falling into a depressed heap on the couch.

I lied about how happy I was. Or did I? Fuck if I know what's what anymore.

Am I happy? No.

Was I temporarily happy in those moments? Yes.

Why should I give a crap about what other's think? Because I'm afraid.

I just want to be happy again and not have this pain touch every part of my heart. I want to look at events and pictures and know that I was really truly happy in those moments and that I came home feeling elated and refreshed. I want to not push down the pain in a desperate attempt to show up as fun, carefree Mal so that no one is made uncomfortable by me or because of the feeling that if I miss showing up to this then I'll never get the moment back again.

Does this even make any sense?!
Screw it. It's back to Netflix for me...