Now I Can Find Relief. I Grieve.

(song: I Grieve/artist: Peter Gabriel)

My therapist told me to write. Doctor’s orders.

My dad died. 

Every time I write it or say it, it still feels like the first time. 

My dad died. 

My dad is dead.

My dad was old. 

He was one of those “he had a full life” cases. 

He was 86. 

My dad died when he was 86.

My dad started 24-hour oxygen in June of 2015. I spent the last 8 months traveling back-and-forth from NY to GA to spend as much time with him as I could, except January when I was under strict orders not to travel after my back surgery. I called my dad the morning of my surgery and demanded he stay alive until I could fly again. We laughed but we knew that neither of us got that choice so we said goodbye every time we talked.

 

Feb. 2016 - We both survived my surgery, and for awhile were cane twins.

I was lucky because I knew he was dying. I knew that every conversation I had with my dad was one chat closer to the last. I audio-recorded our conversations and made short videos of him telling stories and jokes. I wrote parts of his eulogy while he was still alive so that I could share my memories with him. I knew the end was coming and I know how lucky I am to have been able to say goodbye over the course of 9 months. I mistakenly believed that this gift of time and knowledge would make things easier when I became a member of the Dead Parent Club.

But, no. It still came as a shocking blow to get that call on May 12^th. I had been willfully ignoring the impact that the end-of-life experience with my dad would have, and how abrupt the end would feel even though we knew it was coming. In some ways, the past 9 months with my dad was more meaningful than the collective 41 years I had with him. In every way, right now.

I feel broken. I look normal on the outside but I am hollow on the inside. I'm so angry. I want to go for a run, but I can't. I still can't fucking run! Even if I could run, I feel painfully awkward when I'm outside of my home. I feel so different right now. I have all the textbook grieving stuff going on – intermittent waves of sobbing (occasionally in public), constant fatigue but inability to stay asleep, forgetfulness, guilt, self-loathing, weight gain, anger…lots and lots of anger. In short, I'm a mess. 

I just want to hide. And that's exactly what I'm going to do when I go back to Georgia for summer vacation. The last trip of the year. Time to unplug and take care of me. 

Have a great summer, y'all. See you in September.

Let the healing begin.

It's Such A Shame Our Friendship Had To End

(song: Purple Rain/artist: Prince)

I had a social media intervention with myself. I freely admit that I spend entirely too much time surfing Facebook and Instagram, but I was also wasting precious time by trolling my running apps and peering into the lives of my able-bodied running "friends".  

Recently, I ran into a cyclist pal that I noticed hadn't been logging his rides on our shared social media running/cycling app, Strava. When I asked him why, he told me he had quit using Strava. In fact, he had quit all social media. I was shocked. I mean, if you don't Strava your ride or run, did it actually happen? He said he got so caught up in "how far, how fast and how often everyone else was riding that I stopped enjoying my own rides". Light bulb moment. 

I literally CAN NOT RUN, yet I found myself refreshing Strava 500 times a day to see what other runners were logging. Was it boredom? Regret? Wishful thinking? Envy? All of the above? I don't know. I do know that trolling splits and sweaty post-run selfies was a form of self-inflicted torture. I am not physically capable of being competitive right now. Instead of focusing on my current ability, I was wishing I had the ability of my fellow Strava runners. Longing to run the Brooklyn Bridge or be a part of a group training run. Wasting precious time. I deleted the app and my account (just in case I was tempted to log in and reminisce about my past runs...). I also temporarily deactivated my personal Facebook account and man, was that hard! What the hell am I going to do with all this free time?

Because I'm totally cheating on Strava and Facebook with real life.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the encouragement from my fellow social media runners, but I need to place more importance on self-validation rather than counting the number of kudos I get after a 6-mile walk. Actually being present in the moment.  Listening to the sounds around me, instead of the lady in my ears telling me how fast and far I've walked. I miss that lady, but I will get over her. And eventually we'll get back together. Right now, a break is a very good thing. 

The first Strava-free walk is the hardest.  One day at a time....