Tuesday, March 11

Nutrition: Oddly very hungry today. DST/low sleep could explain it, but usually that comes in the form of cravings, whereas this is legit hunger.

Sleep: 8 hours in bed, 9p-5a, 83% quality. Woke at 130a, took ages to fall back - removed right ear plug because it hurt, tried to sleep on right side, Clyde active, Hop snoring, Lexi licking, ohmygod canyouallpleasejustshutup! Also I set my alarm for 5 when it could have been 6. (On the other hand, 5a today makes 5a easier tomorrow) Alarm woke me. Angrily.

Healthy Movement: Front of left ankle pain. Low back stiffness. Session was short/easy and felt fine. Tough on the brain, though. Hearing Dustin claim that "I'm in a good place" (meaning uninjured, minimized stress, etc) should have been a boost but instead my brain immediately tacked on the addendum, "for a disaster like you." Because in terms of anyone else, I'm actually in a pretty shitty place to run a marathon in 6 weeks. But for me, this is good...because I suck (my words, of course).

I was kind of pissed at Dustin for not "getting" that running sucks right now and I don't want to do any of it; that if hills are the only thing that sounds appealing I will do it - because otherwise I will do nothing; that I am learning from my foolishness (like last Wednesday: don't do downhills) (like Saturday: keep tabs on my speed); and that I'm not being a total dumb ass like I have been in the past (like yesterday's hills: up full once, then just halves - and never at all-out effort).

And then I beat myself up because...just how is Dustin supposed to read my mind? Unless I tell him that running sucks and I feel like quitting this whole stupid attempt, unless I tell him that I am learning from the foolish outings, he doesn't know. The man is not a mind-reader (damn). But I could barely respond to him for fear of bawling, all the emotions swirling madly, hating myself for being so close to tears all the time, and with him doing all the talking it felt like I was being lectured.

And then after suffering through & writing all of that....and thinking "fuck running" for the past few days...I read a simple BAA email full of details/changes to gear & bag check, start & finish line layouts, etc. And as I read this paragraph, I almost sobbed out loud:

As you walk through the finish area, you receive, in this order: finisher medals, a Heatsheet® Warmth Retention Cape, Poland Spring Water, Gatorade Endurance Formula, Poland Spring Water, Gatorade Recovery Protein shake, PowerBar, and food bags.

I guess crossing that finish line & receiving that medal matters to me after all, if even picturing it flooded me right over with emotions. Goddamn.
At home I shoveled a bunch of slush off the driveway, big heavy shovel-loads tossed at shoulder height. In my dress & winter boots, doing some angry swearing. Good workout.

Fun & Play: Today was just plain emotionally exhausting. Not fun. I need more sleep to handle this rollercoaster.

Stress Management: Got some more info from my goddaughter that the 13-year-old I was so worried about yesterday does NOT have head trauma. Cracked skull yes, fluid in her lungs, sedated, but stable. Still worrisome, but no longer so GD terrifying.

On Friday/Monday I gave everyone on my team a box of Girl Scout cookies: their favorite flavor, which I remembered (tracked) from last year. ONE of them thanked me. The other three did not so much as mention it. Really? Is everyone in my world (not just them) an ungrateful jerk with zero manners? Yes, I know I express my gratitude more freely than normal folks, but I don't expect an engraved thank you note - a simple "Hey, thanks" in any format would sure be nice. Every month or two I give them a little treat of some kind (from my own pocket I might add, and since one of my people pays every bill, she goddamn well knows I'm not turning in receipts for these treats) with only occasional thanks. Do I quit? Or is leadership always going to feel like a thankless goddamn gig, but they probably do appreciate it, so keep doing it? 

I've been working on their reviews for like three weeks now, fine-tuning over & over, trying SO HARD to find the right balance of praise & encouragement without bullshitting them over their shortcomings. I shouldn't be rehashing their mistakes, and yet...if a review of last year doesn't include pointing out the problems we've had, what is the point of calling it a review? Let's just call it a fluff-fest if that's all it should be. Yet if I'm blunt about the issues, they're going to hate me all over again, and we've finally been having some decent morale. And also, I'm positive my own review will be full of very harsh words from them, because they get to be anonymous and bluntly avoid all the fluff. There is no GD way to win. Finally, I had to tell myself: write with love. Go ahead and verbalize the past problems in the review, but put good things down on the paper they keep & can re-read, thereby also easing their fears of having the problems on their "permanent record" - even though frankly I doubt anyone ever looks besides me. Leadership is exhausting. 

Honestly, my whole life is exhausting me; this whole spewing of brain vomit the past few days = burnout danger signs. Thought very hard about what I can do to head off this train to Crazy Town.
  • Step 1: Leave work a half-hour early as a gift to myself. (Back a step: cry all the way home.) 
  • Step 2: Set up hammock in basement.
  • Step 3: Commit to visiting it any night that I'm home by 7pm. In order to have a "good place" brain, I require quiet/reading time. With the hubs occupying the couch & TV on, I use the kitchen table. A hammock in the basement (until it can be outside) will provide a cozier, quieter, more peaceful spot.
  • Step 4: Stop letting the voice in my head ask, "I should be able to handle all this better, what's wrong with me, why am I so weak, other people have it a million times worse, every stress I have is my own choosing, why am I so fucking stupidly weak?" And instead, visualize that awful cunt, put duct tape over her mouth, tie her up, set her on fire, and push her off a cliff. Then drive to the bottom of the cliff and run her over. Get out and stomp all of her bits into ashes. Bury them. Be done with comparing.
  • Step 5: Make sure people know I'm a stream-of-consciousness type of writer who tends to overshare, and all of the above comes out when I'm deep down in the valley, and is not quite a total reflection of the state of my brain. In fact, if I were smarter, I'd delete most of it. But I'm not. (Oh shit, go back to step 4.)
Today's #LoveYourBodyChallenge Mantra: “I love my body. It allows me the privilege to move freely, and I will take full advantage of that privilege as often as I can.”

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