My Dad & Politics: How I Learned to be a Compassionate Person

With it being Inauguration Day in the US, it feels like the right time to write this. It's been rolling around in my head since early November but was a little too painful to type up - until now.

Thankfully grief therapy has been helping get comfortable with being uncomfortable, especially when it comes to grieving the loss of my father. I have begun to wrap my head around the fact that this is a long process of healing and it will likely take me years to work through. That's okay, I'm in for the long haul. Because, quite frankly, what choice do I have? 

My therapist has used my favorite quote many times since I started seeing her: THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH. I used this phrase a lot in 2018 when I first started working on removing alcohol from my life (and first realized how much I relied on alcohol for emotional support - it was startling). That period of my life (2018-2021, the "drying out years", as I like to call them) was truly my first introduction to "embracing the suck" and "getting comfortable with being uncomfortable." Who knew giving up alcohol was only the beginning, and that doing this tough emotional work would actually become my lifelong mission?

But I digress.

If I haven't lost you yet, this post is related to Trump taking office today. Here it is: a lot of my grief over what happened in the 2024 presidential election is tangled up in the grief I feel about losing my dad, the two incidents are entwined. And the reason is because everything I know and feel about politics can be traced back to my dad.

My dad was one of the smartest people I knew when it came to politics and I looked up to him from childhood into adulthood. He was a realist, but he was also extremely compassionate. I learned from a young age that he mostly aligned with the democratic party and that he believed in basic human rights. When I was old enough to vote, I looked to him for guidance and learned a lot from him. I'm now probably a little more left-leaning than my dad was, but I credit him for teaching me about being a civic-minded, compassionate constituent.

I am not going to speak for my dad's political views because that would be unfair and honestly I don't know where he stood on every single issue. But things I knew (because he told me) were that he staunchly despised Trump, he thought he had no business leading our country, and he thought he was a legitimate danger to our democracy. My dad was an Airforce Veteran, a man who loved his country, who served for his country, and he told me what he saw happening at the Capitol on January 6, 2021 was the most disgusting and hateful thing he had witnessed since watching the planes hit the twin towers on 9/11. He said it was UNAMERICAN. And that disgusting act of treason was incited by Donald Trump, FULL STOP.

In all his great political wisdom my dad also told me sometime in early 2022 that if Trump ran for re-election in 2024 he would probably win. I didn't want to believe him. I was sort of mad when he said it. I mean, the man incited an insurrection against our government, surely he wouldn't even be allowed to run, never mind would he win! But my dad knew, he knew the force behind the Trump Republican party, he knew how Trump had the Supreme Court stacked in his favor, he knew that the American voters who supported Trump before would come back tenfold (I mean, we saw some of them literally storm the Capitol to "take back the election" in '21 - they were still there, still believing something was "stolen" from them for 4 years under the Biden Administration, that anger doesn't just disappear), he knew that people would believe lies told about immigrants, transgender citizens, inflation/the economy, and abortion because when people are afraid, fed up, or just plain uninformed, they will believe what they think will suit them best to make them feel better. Trump doesn't "tell it like it is", he tells people what they want to hear, and they believe it. 

And damn it, my dad was right.

My dad went into the hospital just before Biden decided to step down from the presidential race. In fact, the last time my dad and I had a conversation (when I visited him at Mass General), a lot of what we discussed was about the presidential election. That's what my dad and I did, we talked about politics: we celebrated the wins, we complained about the losses, and we laughed (or more times than not, lamented) over the batshit crazy stuff coming out of Trump's mouth. That day in the hospital my dad and I discussed how surprised we both were at Trump's bravery after he was shot at and was bleeding from the ear - and we both said that moment of bravery would win him huge points with constituents on both sides. I remember one of the last things I said to my dad was that "there is a very fine line between crazy and brave, and Trump was right on that line the day he was almost shot in the head". My dad laughed and said I was right.

That was the last face to face conversation we had together. Less than a week later my dad had to go on a ventilator, and then I never saw him conscious again.

When Trump won in 2016, my dad was a source of comfort for me. He told me then we'd be okay, we'd get through. And he was the one person I knew I could commiserate with when the scariness of politics became a little too much. 

When Trump won the election this past November, I had never felt more alone in my life. My dad is the one person I wanted to talk to about it, the one person who could have comforted me, or just commiserated with me. He is the one person who I wanted to ask, "what does this mean for us? are we going to be okay?" Because he was smart, he was brave, and he was someone I knew I could trust in this dark and scary world. He was my protector. 

And now today, January 20, 2025, Trump is again being sworn into office, and my dad is gone. So much about that one sentence feels heavy and immensely unfair. All I can do now is take the lessons my dad taught me and try to be like him as best as I can - compassionate, brave, smart, level-headed, and realistic. I'll consider myself lucky if I am even an eighth as good of a person as he was. And most importantly, no matter what happens, I will never stop caring about basic human rights, I will never stop loving our great country, and I will never stop missing my dad. Never.

"I Have A Dream" - by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Delivered on August 28, 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. 

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. 

When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men — yes, Black men as well as white men — would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked insufficient funds. 

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. 

We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. 

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. 

Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children. 

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. 

There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. 

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. 

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. 

And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. 

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, when will you be satisfied? We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. 

We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: for whites only. 

We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. 

No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream. 

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our Northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. 

So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. 

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. 

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. 

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. 

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Alabama little Black boys and Black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today. 

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. 

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. 

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims' pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring. 

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. 

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, Black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.

Choosing to Cut Christmas Cards in 2024

Our family sends out a holiday card every year to about 100 households; chances are if you are reading this on social media, you are one of the lucky recipients of our printed holiday joy. We always do a photo card and the image is either of all 4 of our family members (sometimes including pets) or just of our 2 sons. Typically I choose a photo that was taken sometime during the calendar year that reflects something significant that happened within our family, or sometimes I set up a holiday "photoshoot" at our house, complete with our Christmas tree as a prop, Santa hats as part of our "costumes", and my cell phone as the camera.

I take a lot of pride in our holiday cards each year and even though it's a lot of work, I also take a lot of pleasure in sending them out to our extensive mailing list. Our holiday cards are a chance to humble brag about our family while also spreading Christmas cheer to those we love.

But this year I decided to skip the whole card thing. In early November when I started searching in my phone's photo albums for an image to use, I was suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness. This year had some high points for sure (I started a new job that I love, my youngest son began high school, my oldest son got his driver's license, just to name a few), but when I think of 2024, the only thing I can think of this holiday season is how we lost my dad. As much as I don't want this terribly sad and tragic experience to trump everything else, it does. Between that and the presidential election results, I just don't feel like I want to celebrate the end of this year with a colorful card and warm holiday greetings.

One could argue that doing the cards even though I felt sad about it may have been a good thing because as I mentioned earlier, I typically do enjoy the whole routine of sending out holiday cards each year. Maybe it would have brought me joy or helped me embrace the holiday spirit. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt like if we sent out a photo card of us all smiling, looking joyful and serene, it would be a lie. I also felt like it would be a betrayal to my dad in some way. After someone dies the world expects us to carry on and be happy - and I know that I will do that eventually - but I felt like sending out happy holiday greetings this year would dismiss this great hole that was left in my heart, would dismiss the fact that this amazing person is no longer in the world. I am just not ready to do that. I need this time to be sad and to acknowledge it - to not mask it with hollow holiday sentiments. I do sincerely hope others have a merry holiday season, I just won't be sending those wishes by mail this year.

The card thing is just one example of how hard and complicated the holiday season can be if you are grieving. To all my friends and family who typically receive a card from us each year, this is why you don't have one of our holly jolly creations hanging on your wall or fridge this year. I'm not sorry for skipping cards, so I won't apologize for it, but I don't think anyone is expecting me to. I know everyone gets it, even if they haven't experienced this type of loss yet.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out with kindness and support since my last post about telling the truth about my grief after losing my dad. And thank you to all for your patience as our family navigates this difficult time. The holidays have been harder this year, especially for me. I'll do the card thing again someday when it feels right again. I know my dad would want me to. 💗

Enter Truth, Exit Pain

My dad died this year and it sucks. There's not a single thing you can do in life to prepare you for a loss like that. And there is not a single thing anyone can say or do that can remove the pain of grief from your heart.

I haven't done much writing in this blog in the last couple of years, partly because life got busy and partly because I didn't really have anything new or interesting to share. Now I do. It occurred to me the other day that I don't tell the truth very much. It's not that I lie, I just avoid saying exactly what I feel and what I think. I mostly do this to be polite, but I also think a lot of the time I am trying to make myself very small - indistinguishable. A lot of this is out of fear, I presume. I don't know, I think I will learn more about this in my upcoming therapy sessions.

I am tired of not telling the truth. It takes a lot of energy to hide. I hadn't really noticed just how exhausting it is until I really thought about it. Smiling politely, biting my tongue, swallowing my pride - all the things. 

A funny thing happens when someone you love dies. Not really "funny", but you know what I mean. The funny thing that happens is you start assessing things, especially your own life and how much of it it remains. After my dad died I started repeating the phrase, "what's the point?" in my head over and over again - I started questioning why I was bothering to do anything - work hard, pay bills, clean the house, eat healthy, bite my tongue when someone was rude to me, etc. etc. Basically I am taking stock. My dad should have had another 20 or 30 years of life, he should have been able to enjoy retirement with his beautiful wife and travel to all the warmest most tropical parts of the world, he should have gotten more Christmases with my kids. But instead his life was cut short by an unexpected illness and a surprise reveal of lung cancer, as was uncovered later in his autopsy. He didn't have a moment to take stock because he thought there was time. We always think there is time.

So I am taking stock and one of the things I am realizing in all this is that I am angry and sad most of the time, and I am also tired of holding in all my anger and sadness. I am tired of hiding my real feelings, politely smiling, or pretending like I have it all together. Fact is that I am human. I am a mess. I have feelings. Some days I get by okay but a lot of days I careen repeatedly between anxiety and depression. 

As I briefly mentioned earlier, I'm in therapy. I'd rather not be, but a couple of months after my dad passed away it became abundantly clear that I am incapable of healing through this grief by myself. So I enlisted a professional to unload all of my emotional baggage on, on a weekly basis.

Also, I'd like to start living my life and being happy. And I think the key to that is to stop making myself small and hiding who I really am and what I really think. So this blog is turning into a "truth series" as I work through my grief. I'll post these from time to time as the spirit moves me. No one is required to read them. In fact, I'll bet no one will. The Facebook algorithm seems to be against me and most of my social media posts seem to turn invisible as soon as they are published. But writing, publishing, and posting my truths and feelings will be very cathartic for me. And will give me a much-needed voice again. It's been a minute since I wrote something real and autobiographical. 

Looking forward to spilling my guts.

Congratulations to the Other Side

We're at the end of election week 2024 and like so many people, I am having a lot of big feelings. What better way to deal with them than to write? So here goes nothing. I hope you'll read all the way to the end.

First I'd like to start off by saying, "congratulations to the other side!" And I mean that sincerely. It wasn't but 4 years ago that I was feeling the elation you're currently feeling. I was excited "my guy" had won the presidency and I was feeling optimism and relief. So I understand what you're probably feeling right now. Enjoy it.

I'm an American and I believe in our electoral process, our democracy, and our freedoms. I love this country and I feel lucky to live in it. I don't like how the election turned out, but I am not going to stomp around for the next 4 years denying the legitimacy of the election, I am not going to fly flags that say "F Trump",  and I am not going to storm the US Capitol and try to overthrow the government. That would just be insane, right?

I'll say now what I said in 2016 when Trump was elected the first time: I think it's a mistake that we put him in office, but he is our president, and as an American, I sincerely hope he does a good job and makes this country "great again", whatever the hell that means. Of course I want our country to be successful. I want unemployment rates to fall, I want inflation to diminish, I want people to live happily ever after. I want good things for everyone - and if people have fallen on hard times, I want them to be lifted up and supported. I don't wish for Trump be a failure because that will make us, our country, a failure. We hired him, so like any employee you bring into your company, let's hope he does a good job.

Now I will say some things that I didn't say in 2016: If you voted for Trump, I think you are selfish. I didn't say this in 2016 because quite frankly he hadn't served as president yet and I was thinking that maybe the people who elected him into office knew something I didn't. Maybe this guy can MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN. But a lot has happened since 2016, A LOT, and I know now that anyone who voted for this man to be president in 2024 is thinking only about themselves, about their bottom line, and no one else.

Hey, I care about money, too. I am not sitting here in some ivory tower rolling around on $100 bills without a care in the world. My husband is a public school teacher and I work for a non-profit, we're not exactly raking it in. Last year our family had to take a lien on one of our vehicles just so we could buy Christmas presents. My husband and I literally live paycheck to paycheck - if one of us ends up out of work for some reason, we could lose our house. So I know money struggles first hand. But I don't put those personal struggles, like the cost of my grocery bill, in front of the bigger problems in our country: reproductive rights, gun control, healthcare access, and basic civil liberties for all Americans and those seeking asylum (or just wanting a better life) in our country who may not have been born here - to name a few.

I don't believe Trump has the ability to fix country's financial woes. But okay - maybe he will prove me wrong. But even if he does, the fact that people would choose THAT over everything else is - well - selfish. Truth is that you, Trump supporter, chose your wallet over people's basic civil liberties. If it bothers you that I am saying this, you can unfriend me in life and on social media. I invite you to go ahead and do that. I am done being nice. I am not going to walk around acting diplomatic anymore, pretending your Trump flag doesn't bother me, looking away from your MAGA bumper sticker and shaking my head like you're just an incorrigible child. I am telling you right now - you're an adult who made a selfish choice with your ballot. You care about you - you don't care about women, minorities, LGBTQ+, or our constitution. You're selfish. You have looked the other way on all of the terrible things Trump has done as a human being. Or worse than looking away, you support them.

Since 2016 you've probably been walking around calling me a hippy liberal socialist. That's fine. If caring about the rights of others is somehow wrong, then I don't want to be right. I am not looking the other way. I see what's really happening, and fuck if isn't terrifying.

In 2016 I was baffled by the election results. But here in 2024, I'm scared. I am terrified that more than half of our country blatantly voted for a convicted felon, a liar, a racist, a misogynist, and a sexual abuser to serve as our next president - AGAIN. This man incited a riot to overthrow the government when he didn't get his way. He colludes with Russia. So yeah, I am scared that this is the person that our country chose. I don't know what that says about the people who live here. But it actually makes me afraid for my life. 

Lastly, to my "friends" who are telling me to "go to Canada if I don't like it" (gee, thanks for the suggestion) - I sincerely hope it won't come to that. As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, I love this country and I feel privileged to live here. But someday it might be illegal for me to write a blog like this because our president-elect has already talked about throwing people in jail who say negative things about him. Someday we might find ourselves living in a version of Gilead from The Handmaid's Tale because, well, Project 2025. And if it comes to that, then if Canada will have me, I will seek asylum. But for now, I will stay put and do what I can to help others. And there are going to be a lot of people who may need help in the coming 4 years.

Guess Who's Back...

Let's see, it's been about a year since I last posted on here, so let me catch you up on some things:

• I completed the Boston Marathon on April 18, 2022; it took me 6 hours and 37 minutes from start to finish. Fun fact (sarcasm): the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) has me listed as "Did Not Finish" in their official records because they don't recognize Boston Marathon finishing times that take longer than 6 hours - but I did in fact finish, and I have the medal and the lost toenail to prove it.
• I raised about $8,000 for the Dana Farber Cancer Institute as part of my Boston Marathon experience in 2022 - that accomplishment feels even more victorious than finishing the race itself.
• Since completing the marathon, I did not run at all for 11 months and yesterday (March 18, 2023) I actually felt like running and completed 3 miles on the treadmill. And man am I sore today - definitely out of practice! But it felt really good just the same. Until yesterday I was repulsed by the very thought of ever running again. About a month or so after the Boston Marathon I was telling my husband how surprised I was at my lack of desire to ever run again and he said, "You will run again, someday, when you're ready". I didn't think I'd ever feel like running again and then yesterday I woke up and thought, "I feel like going for a run".  And just like that, my running slump ended.
• In May 2022 I got sick with COVID after going on a trip to Florida. The sickness was fairly uneventful - I felt pretty awful for about 6 or so days, lost my sense of smell and taste for a day or two, but otherwise was okay; I consider myself lucky and I credit all of the many COVID vaccines I received for making this illness very unserious. 
• I have been on and off various diets and eating plans over the past year (while training for Boston I didn't follow any special diet and didn't allow myself to think about a weight loss plan, as that is not healthy or helpful when training for a race of that magnitude - but after I finished the marathon I decided to get back to working on my weight loss goals), all without much success - and then in October 2022 I started learning about intermittent fasting, and since then I have been following that lifestyle. I absolutely LOVE it, as it means I no longer have to count calories, track what I eat, avoid certain foods or food groups, calculate points, take supplements, or starve myself. There's a lot of great science behind intermittent fasting and for me personally it has helped with my blood sugar, the quality of my food choices, my hunger and satiety cues, and most importantly, my relationship with food. I spent my whole adult life fretting over what I am allowed and not allowed to eat, and if I ate something unhealthy I would spend hours or even days beating myself up over it. With intermittent fasting I no longer think that way - basically I eat during a specific window of time each day (anywhere from 4 hours to 12 hours, depending on the day and what my body needs - yes, it changes all the time) and during that window of time, I can eat what I want. When my "eating window" is closed, then that's it, no food or drinks other than coffee or water. It's so simple yet so effective, and I have never felt healthier and more free when it comes to food. 
• My father-in-law had quadruple bypass surgery in the middle of January 2023 and since then I have been actively working on improving the quality of food I put into my own body. Watching what he went through shook me up and got me thinking about my own heart health (as well as the health of my family). Since January 19, 2023, I have stopped eating all meat except for fish and I have increased my intake of fruits, vegetables, nuts, and beans. I'm not always healthy (last night I had tater tots loaded with cheese for dinner - yum), but I am trying to eat healthily 80% of the time. Also, something I discovered when I cut out red meat and chicken from my diet is that I don't have as many headaches as I used to. I am looking into the correlation to see if there is any validity to it (or if it's just a coincidence), but in the meantime I am happy to have this as a positive side effect of being meatless/pescatarian.
• On February 26, 2023 (one day before my 45th birthday) I hit a new milestone in my sobriety: 1,000 consecutive days alcohol-free! In mid-June I will reach 1,111 days and since I love the 1111 number sequence, I am definitely going to celebrate that achievement when it comes.

From a health and wellness perspective, that about sums up everything that happened to me over the past year. I abandoned writing for a while, as you can see, but I am planning to get back at it from here on out. Not because I think you, dear reader, need to read and know my every thought - but because from a mental health perspective it feels good to write and share. If you enjoy reading about my health journey, then good news for you, more is coming! If you don't, that's okay, too. I'll still be here. Pop in to read more if you want. Or don't. It's all good.

To be continued...😀

Hope Springs Eternal

Let me be real for a minute -

Marathon training can be pretty brutal. It's an emotional journey to say the least. Some days I feel amazing, other days I wonder why I decided to do this at all. Lots of things have an impact on my training days - weather, how well I ate the day before, how stressed I am about work (or anything else), my hydration, my attitude before I start my workout, and my emotional state are just a few factors that can influence whether I have a good run or a bad run.

So yeah, lots of things come into play when it comes to running. As I said, training is an emotional journey.

Yesterday I had a bad run. I was supposed to run 20 miles and I only did 11. I let the pain and exhaustion get into my head as I was running and I suddenly felt like I couldn't take going for another 9 miles. I got very emotional once I decided to stop and I started mentally beating myself up for not reaching the goal set out to complete. I spent the rest of the day feeling depressed and frustrated and the whole thing ended up putting me in a bad emotional spiral, where I questioned every decision I have made in the last 2 years. 

It was rough.

But when I woke up today, I felt better. Optimistic, even. After a good night's sleep, I awoke with a clear head, and realized the spiral I was in the day before was totally temporary, and that I allowed my negative lower brain voice to get the best of me. 

And so I decided to do something I don't normally do the day after a long run - I went out for another run. The weather was warm and the sky was clear and I was in the exact right headspace to hit the pavement. I didn't complete the 9 miles I missed the day before (I didn't want to risk hurting myself by going that long of a distance the day after a long run), but I did complete 2 miles and I felt really good about it. Thanks to that quick follow-up run, I was able to end my weekend on a high note.

I have had many training days over the last 9 weeks where I wondered to myself if I made the right decision signing up to run Boston. Do I have what it takes? My God, what if it takes me 8 hours to finish? What if I hurt myself during the race? What if I am too old to be doing a race of this magnitude now? What if I am too overweight to finish this race? What if I am not pushing myself hard enough in my training - or what if I push too hard? What if what if what if...?

Every time I hit the treadmill, the rail trail, or the street for a run, I have to overcome all of those worried doubting thoughts that race through my mind. Most days I am good and I can squash them with optimism and good energy. I also keep reminding myself that I may not be a fast runner and I can't really control that, but I can control how much time, effort, and discipline I put into my training, - so I just focus on that. But every now and then, the negative worries seep in and are hard to shake.

So I will just keep plugging along and do what I can to stay positive and optimistic for the remainder of my training journey. Less than a month remaining until the big day. Eeek!

Today was the first day of spring and as I finished my 2 miler on the rail trail, I spotted some branches with early signs of green sprouting on them:

A little sign from nature that just when you think winter will swallow you whole - spring arrives, ready to flourish and bring life back into the world. I will remember that the next time I find myself in the midst of a bad run. The bad thoughts and negative feelings will pass, they always do, and another good run is waiting for me, just around the corner.

Hope springs eternal. 💜⚘