September is all about transition around here. Both girls are now in school together. Skeeter is adapting well to the new school, and Munch is adoring first grade. With fall comes the new year of dance classes. Skeeter is taking both ballet and tap this year. Munch is taking ballet, tap, jazz and hip-hop. The girls love their new teachers at our studio, and they can barely sit still without dancing around the house during dinner. The girls have been more tired and cranky as we adjust to our new normal.
I, on the other hand, stink at transitions. These transitions cause me so much anxiety. This month has not been kind to me and my mental health. My anxiety was ramping up way too much. I stopped my weaning efforts entirely, and I upped my dosage of my antidepressant. I heard a wonderful talk regarding how transitions cause anxiety and that this is normal. I feel like I do my daughters a disservice when I cannot manage my anxiety. It has been a year since I got into a car accident that resulted in the return of my intrusive thoughts. When my husband mentioned that anniversary, it made so much sense how heightened all these transitions and changes were making me. I struggled with daily panic attacks for a week. I could not figure out why everything was affecting more. My self-care routine had remained the same. In fact I was exercising with more frequency and more intensity. This did not seem to diminish the feelings of panic. I need to realize that I need to give myself grace and kindness as the summer ends and the school year begins. I am giving myself lots of room and space to understand that medication is a necessity for me. I need this medication to regulate my brain chemistry. That small pill is key to my mental health and my self-care routine.
I cannot believe that it has been a week since I ran my race. The 7 a.m. start time was a little rough as evidenced by this photo. I had a bit of coffee, but it was not enough to prevent the spaced out stare. Meeting up with my friend Rachel who ran the half marathon for this race was fantastic. She had run this race last year, so she gave me amazing tips to prepare. Since we raced at Miller Park, the traffic around the stadium became crowded very quickly. I left at 5:15 a.m., and I arrived at the stadium with plenty of time to spare. I checked my gear, and then I met our training group. We stretched and took a few pictures. My only goal was to run the entire time and have fun.
cue a bit of panic right as the race was starting. I am so petite that I could not see exactly where I got into the starting corral. The 10K runners started at 7:00 a.m. in corrals A through D, and the half marathon runners started at 7:15 a.m. in corrals E through Z. I made it into my corral, and we were off. Technically I did not start really running at my pace until I crossed the start line. Since it was such an early start, I didn’t have my family come to be my cheerleaders. My sweet friend Rachel found me right as I got going, and she shouted out my name. That set the tone for the entire race for me.
I settled into my pace, and I ran all but the last half mile with one of the women from my running class. I do not run with music because I like to be present and attentive to what is going on around me. My Runkeeper app on my phone kept me updated with my pace and mile markers. I experienced my first taste of food during a race. I used some gummy chews around the fourth mile, and I made sure to sip my water. I sprinted the last half mile right as we left Miller Park stadium. It was very cool to get to run around the entire ballpark although the dirt is slick.
I felt so proud that I accomplished my goals. Contrary to popular opinion and peer pressure from my running friends, I have no plans for a half marathon. I would love to run another 10K next year. Running has made me so much mor comfortable in my skin. I feel powerful and strong when I run. Running with groups keeps me accountable to friends and to myself. Running brings me so much joy. I love races because it gives me a specific goal to achieve. What I was not prepared for was the exhaustion. I took a two-hour nap the afternoon after the race, and I lounged on the couch all day long. Kudos to friends who run longer distances and triathlons because I cannot even imagine the exhaustion. Now where is an appropriate place to wear my race medal? At work? I think maybe a tiara is in order as well with the medal. What do you think?
I’m staring down a deadline of twenty-four hours until my first 10K ever. I am feeling nervous and excited! All my clothes for race day are washed and dried. My shoes are currently drying out from my final run. I am trying desperately not to stare at the weather channel all day long to determine exactly what the temperature will be at the start of this race. Also I am not a morning person by nature. This race starts at 7:00 a.m. Eek! I will have all the alarms on to make sure that I arrive early. I am feeling the nervous buzz of anticipation. This will also be a big crowd – 6000 racers. I will need to practice lots of self-care (music and yoga) so that I am not overwhelmed by the crowds. I know that physically and mentally I am ready for this race. I cannot say enough about the amazing staff at PRO in Brookfield, with a special shout out to Micaela. Running has been such an part of my self-care routine. I have reconnected with friends and family, and I have made new connections through running. I’ll share all the details next week! It is so amazing to set a goal that is way outside of my comfort zone and to know that tomorrow I will be accomplishing it.
Numb, in shock and finally acceptance. Like many mental health advocates, the news of Robin Williams hit close to home for me. Suicide touched my life when I was in high school when a dear friend of mine committed suicide. I tried to blog about this earlier, but my brain could not wrap itself around forming words for the many emotions that a suicide brings up in me.
I remember the feeling of helplessness. How could someone who was so loved and so kind feel like she was all alone? I knew in my heart that this struggle ran deeper than just normal teenage stress. If I could go back in time, I would talk to my friend more. I would help her pull down that facade of being the strong, smart and in charge one. I would tell her what I now know to be true. Asking for help is not weak. The strongest among us have struggled with some large demons, and those struggles have refined our characters. Asking for help is the strongest thing that you can do when you are struggling.
Many of my blogging friends in the mental health community have struggled with suicide and suicidal ideations. These amazing men and women are true survivors. They have fought those thoughts, and they have come out on the other side. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sharing your stories. Suicide carries so much stigma and shame. It is time that we stop whispering about it behind closed doors and talk about it openly.
There is hope. It gets better. If you are struggling, please call the national crisis hotline at anytime.
Friday, August 29th marked the end of an era. It was our last day at our beloved daycare. We had been there since my sweet Munch was just three months old. The teachers, the directors, and the other families had become our family. I know that those friendships and those teachers have shaped my daughters’ lives in ways that I am just beginning to understand. Those amazing women took care of my babies, and we were leaving our nest to spread our wings at elementary school. The education that the girls received was phenomenal. Our decision to have both girls at elementary school together was two-fold: time and money. We saved a bit on daycare costs by having both girls in the same childcare. We only have one pick up and one drop off now! That has given my husband, myself, and our girls at least a half hour back to our hectic days. It was so bittersweet to leave our daycare behind. I cried when I picked up the girls for the last time. Like so many moments of their childhood, my sense of loss overwhelmed me. God bless our amazing teachers! We will be back to visit!
I have been silent on my blog for nearly two weeks. I needed to retreat and find my words and voice to articulate my swirling feelings. What is happening Ferguson is NOT okay. I wonder how I can change people’s opinions by my posts on Facebook. I had to delete comments when the topic went off the rails. As the member of the majority, I want to continue the conversation on our white privilege. It is time to stop making excuses and sit with the discomfort.
I struggle with my part in perpetuating the systemic racism that is present in the corporate sector. I used to help manage a call center, and I interviewed candidates on a regular basis. One of the unofficial rules was to discount a candidate if they used “axe” instead of “ask”. I felt that pit in my stomach because I knew that this practice was not right. It discriminated against the Black candidates who applied for these position. Ferguson brought this to the forefront of my thoughts again. I realized that all of my former colleagues , including the Black supervisors, went along with this. My past experience factors into the passion that I feel in speaking up now. Back then I did not feel like I had the power to speak out. In the words of Kelly Wickham, “When systemic poverty or sexism or racism is at play, call it out as unacceptable.” I need to put my white privilege to good use and call out when a situation is not acceptable. That is what I am doing now. This cycle will continue unless we call it out. It is NOT okay to shoot an unarmed black young man. Black lives matter. Brown lives matter. We all matter. We all need the right to a criminal justice system that protects every one of us, regardless of race, color, ethnicity or religion. How we can claim to be the land of the free and the home of the brave when we are enslaving our minority communities in jails and poverty? When the silent majority does not dare speak up for fear of upsetting the balance of power that is so heavily weighted in our direction? We are perpetuating racism through our deafening silence and our refusal to have those honest conversations, not just online but in our homes, our schools, our churches and our communities.
The past two weeks have weighed on me heavily. I have not found the words yet to articulate my thoughts and feelings. The hate and lack of compassion I see on Facebook has triggered my anxiety. When my anxiety and irritation rises to the boiling point, I sweat it out in a workout. I needed to get out all these emotions that cloud my words. My long run was five miles. I ran without my phone. I listened to my breath and heard the rhythm of my feet pounding the pavement. My mind is starting to clear. I can rise above the swirling emotions and focus. I am ready to raise my voice and own my truth.