You Yell In Your Head A Lot

That day at work, the one that is so mind numbingly boring where you can’t even remember what you talk about. You sit and stare, you cross and un-cross your legs to keep your ankles from going numb. That day where you know you’re not going to want to go home right away so you make plans with an old friend, you find a new bar and you plant your ass on a stool for a few beers and talk.

You talk and the shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes makes you realize that, in this moment, your voice is unrecognizable. You’re half way through your first 8% beer and you realize the bar now looks blurry, only because you’re looking through saltwater and your friend pats your right shoulder.

Looking down, your left knee is supported by the bar while your right ankle crosses over it, you look over and your bearded friend, a friend from years ago, that is only ten years younger that your father, and his legs are crossed the same way.

For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been like a strong, proud, black woman. He says, lifting his hand off your shoulder, complimenting you. He begins to share his stories about his relationship, because you decide to get another beer and change the subject to him. You want to stop looking through saltwater and getting the focus off you will help that.

The bar fills up as you realize the coffee stout you ordered is actually good. After years of loving coffee and loving beer and hating the two combined, this brewery does it–it goes down easy, lights you up with a buzz and mellows you out with a different buzz. The conversation continues onto beers, breweries, brewers and bars.

He compartmentalizes your life by drawing circles and squares on the bar top with his fingers, connecting them with imaginary lines and arrows, showing how they all really are connected–see, if things are good here, they have the potential to be better HERE, he taps hard on the upper right circle,

Meanwhile, you use your thumbnail to pick the coaster and to avoid eye contact, you’ve been refused coaster use in bars you regulared at in the past but the tender doesn’t notice you tonight. You blink back, close your eyes a moment and return to making scraps that he’ll later have to clean up and throw away–you’ve worked at bars and know how annoying it is to clean up other peoples messes.

The four compartments are all different, yet work together, if you create balance, you equal a happy, healthy life. Who can juggle balance? Where does this come from? WHERE, HOW?! You yell in your head, you yell in your head a lot.

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I Don’t Want To Post This.

While riding my motorbike I often tell myself that I am fearless. I am not afraid of anything. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want and I am not scared. Fear will not take over my body when I see a spider, snake or stand on the edge of a cliff. I can generally logically talk myself out of that fear and walk by ignoring the creature or jump off that cliff.

People are saying that fear, discomfort, manifest themselves in other places. If you don’t nod your head to it, you don’t say hey every once and awhile it may pop out and say hey to your body in other ways. Maybe a big pimple on your chin with surface, perhaps you’ll begin to get headaches or your nails will begin to be weak and crack. Who knows, every body is different, every fear is different—but, apparently not acknowledging this fear isn’t so good for your health.

I’m writing this blog post full of fear. Fear for my health: both physically and mentally I have been shaken. It sounds stupid, it sounds really kind of lame but I have been unable to run for three days. I want to run today—but I won’t. I don’t even want to be writing this because it makes the situation more real. I’m nodding my head at pain and giving in, instead of ignoring the snake on the porch and walking by I am that childlike girl with a fear, jumping up and down screaming for a prince to save her from the slithering creature.

I know what happens when I am unable to have my daily endorphin high. I either eat so much that I gain weight, or I go to bed before dinner, I move my food around on my plate at lunch and I drink a lot of coffee for breakfast. I lose 5 pounds of muscle in two weeks or I gain 10 pounds, either way I cry every night. Running isn’t just about running, it’s about balance.

I have the word B A L A N C E tattooed on my ribcage to remind me that that is what is key in life—finding a balance between everything. It’s something I’ve been searching for forever, I think we all probably are. For me, running helps that. It not only keeps me healthy but it gives me a sense of accomplishment with every mile I put on my shoes, I solve the worlds problems with every lap I do, I think about things an process. It’s the reason I wake at 5am every morning; I go to bed looking forward to coffee first, then a run. Especially here in Thailand, running through the historical park has been something that has kept me from falling far down a rabbit hole of being overwhelmed and unhappy. This ‘balance keeper’ has been taken away from me and I’m scared. I’m really really scared.

 

There. I said it. It’s out in the universe, I give it to the universe and hope for some energy to have the strength to heal. Energy to have the strength to not fall into a bad place. Energy to feel good and perhaps find a replacement for the next week or two while I search deep inside myself for that balance that I usually find on the road or trail in my shoes.

 

I’m still scared. This fear, having and admitting this fear terrifies me.