TNG

Gaauuuuugggghhhh.

That’s the sound of me flopping over and dying a theatrical and highly dramatic death.  Or, I can do what my sister does when she demonstrates something dying:  Loll my head back, half-close my eyes, and go "ugh" in a soft voice that signals a last breath.  I can’t do justice to her subtle and comedic way of imitating expiration, but trust me, it’s HI-larious.  According to my older brother, that’s just what my big toenail did the other day when it fell off of my toe–"ugh."

Well, what can I say?  I’ve attracted a cold right before my race, and the universe decided to drop another nasty little surprise on my doorstep yesterday.  I won’t detail it simply because I refuse to give it press of any kind (believe me, this turd does not deserve to be given recognition), but suffice it to say, I hope it doesn’t get worse before it gets better.  I sincerely hope (knock on wood) that this little (read: BIG) indecent marks the end of a particularly nasty time in my life; I also hope that Sunday marks the beginning of good times, good times.  I am feeling cautious as, like I said, I hope things don’t get any worse, but everyone around me seems to think that my worries will now subside.  I hope they’re right.  I took the day off from running today because I don’t want to aggravate my cold (I already think it’s been compounded by pure stress); I’d rather miss five miles than 13.1.  So, with this rest and renewal, I hope tomorrow brings a better day.  And that this weekend goes off with as few hitches as possible.

However, I must say, what happened yesterday not only served a huge shock (I have to admit it freely: When I got this news, I briefly considered bidding adieu to the world [like, split second thought, so I don't need any help numbers, but thank you muchly]; I obviously won’t do it, but at that moment, everything else I wanted in life seemed impossible thanks to this turd), but it put things into perspective.  Once you hit bottom (or rather, some turd pushes you towards the bottom), you do start thinking that the only way things will go is up; and though I also briefly considered scrapping Sunday, I’ve squared my shoulders and decided that my race will be a big "Feh" in the direction of the turd and the little things that have been getting me down lately.  I’m sure I’ll have my moments of feeling defeat (who doesn’t?) but maybe now is not the time to wallow in self-pity; maybe now’s the time to try to kick something into gear and "get ‘er done," as my friends once wrote in a birthday card to me.  I honestly don’t know if I’m starting in the right place, and I can’t say I’m full of cheery rah-rah optimism and hope, but I’m trying to let determination override everything else.

I think back to 1998, when I decided that enough was enough and turned my life around (I fell into a rut again, but I like to blame Bush and Co. for that–believe me, it helps).  In 1998, I lost weight, got out of my parents’ house, finally switched my major to English (I am English’s bitch–I always will be), and did what I could to be as independent as possible.  It’s nice to know, though, that many suffered my fate; the job market sucked, prices rose, life kept on gleefully piling on misfortunes.  I am not the only adult stuck at home because my job and pay falls far below my talent level.  My mother firmly believes that my last name also puts me at a disadvantage (and when times are bad, I tend to agree), so I apparently have multiple strikes against me.  If only I could mirror 1998, I think to myself, and get back on that whole "independence" track.  I look at my friend L, who definitely went through a slump like I did; she’s now beaten the odds, gotten a great job, done something extremely healthy for herself, lives on her own and is so much happier.  I can tell when I see her now:  Pure joy in her eyes.  She’s reached the summit first on this hike of life, but I’m still going to keep on pushing.  Seriously, for all that she’s done for herself through sheer will, she’s someone to look up to now.  Maybe, with 1998 as a template and L as a real life example, I can tell myself that nothing is impossible.  Hard to reach?  Yes.  Impossible?  No.

So this is hardly an anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better post, but it is a post expressing my sincere hope that the worst is over (again: Knock on wood) and a recognition that the moping isn’t getting me anywhere.  It’s also a post acknowledging that I am tired, mentally and physically, but that I’m ready to take the rest I need in order to fight another day.

And, as today’s earlier post indicated, I’ve got a lot of good allies on my side.  I still contend that there are very few friends I can rely on (L is one I can rely on, by the way), but my family and my boyfriend are always there, even if I’m not the best at expressing my frustration, anger or sadness.  If I weren’t sick, I’d hug and kiss my family, then plant a huge kiss on IP that would leave him grinning and weak at the knees.

Okay, I guess that’s enough of my blabbing.  Off to drink some fluids.