A Regular Forrest Gump Over Here

Yesterday was beautiful—sunny and around 50 degrees. I knew that rain and snow were headed our way for today, so I made sure to get my run in yesterday when the weather was perfect. I intended to go out for about 45 minutes or so and just get in a decent run. I ended up running for 2 hours straight. I just kept going and going. It was really like I was purging something. Like all the sorrow and frustration that I’ve been experiencing lately about my life and my friendships needed to find some way out of me and this was the only way I knew how to get rid of it.

Needless to say, my hamstrings are pretty upset about it today.

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And then suddenly it’s better

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Sometimes you go to bed feeling like your life has let you down. Everyone is happy, but you’re not. Everyone’s at peace, but you are restless. Everyone can sleep, but your eyes are wide open, staring off into the graying light of your bedroom. Sometimes you go to bed feeling like it would be okay, you don’t mind, if you never woke up.

But sometimes morning comes and the sun is shining. You awake feeling refreshed, lighter, more at ease than you’ve felt in weeks, months. Come to think of it, can you remember ever feeling quite this way? There’s fresh fruit in the refrigerator. There’s already coffee brewing. There’s a sense that maybe today everything will work out okay. Sometimes morning comes and you remember that there’s always a chance to start over, to begin each day fresh and new. And everything feels fine. Not perfect. Not fixed. But better. And that’s good enough. That’s a start.

On Looking Good While Feeling Bad

I look better when I’m depressed. Softer in appearance. Almost beautiful, really. I am muted and subtle, more natural in a quiet, almost mysterious way. There’s something about my eyes when I’ve retreated fully within myself. I pull back from the world, and despair washes over my features, painting them in confidence and resolve. I look self-assured, knowing. But the truth is I know nothing. My appearance seems effortless, carefree. But the reality is I’m simply too tired to care, too withdrawn from the world around me to bother with carefully applied makeup and thoughtful attire. It softens me, though. Removes any air of self-consciousness that conspicuously reads as trying too hard.

It’s the time of year when people start feeling good. The sun comes out more frequently, stays out longer. The cold bite of winter is slowly beginning to fade, as spring comes creeping in, breezy and fresh and smelling of new, wet earth. But I always have trouble when the seasons begin to turn. Always feel a bit dragged down by the knowledge that time marches steadily on, and I am no better prepared than I was yesterday, or the day before.

The park is full of happy joggers, children laughing and playing on the swing sets and jungle gyms, couples strolling lazily hand in hand. And I am the woman standing at the top of a hill, watching everyone live and move joyously around her.

At home, I look in the mirror and think, “I look prettier than usual,” because my eyes are like dark, deep pools reaching way back through time, filling with all the pain and frustration of seasons come and gone, of time that has melted away like winter snow. I see everything, feel almost nothing, and am somehow liberated by this lack of balance.

I look better when I’m depressed, because I don’t care how I look at all.