I need new walking shoes. Mine squeak when I walk, making sounds like I'm walking on a mouse. It's not really loud yet, but I know it will get louder, because it's happened before--several times, and it definitely gets louder. I solve the problem by putting baby powder in them, but I think we're past that. Plus they hurt my feet.
I need new shoes because I've been walking more. My girlfriend Stephanie ran a 5k marathon recently, and that has given me motivation to get moving more. So I've been walking around our lake. But I can only walk a mile and my left foot starts to hurt. Which is a bad thing, because I know I can go further. I could easily do two miles, if I weren't limping the whole time.
So my next gift to myself is going to be new walking shoes. And the two (maybe three) miles that go with them.
But enough about walking. What I really want to talk about is this weekend. I spent this weekend watching tv, hiding from the world. I didn't go anywhere, didn't talk to anyone, and didn't do anything that involved any effort (although I kept my kids from killing themselves or each other while Erik was at work, so I guess that counts as something).
Anyway, my point is, it wasn't a good weekend. And I've been having many good weekends, so it was especially hard to have a bad one. I really wanted this to not happen, and I didn't know why it was happening. I had gone to Six Flags with my family on Friday, and that was a bit overwhelming, so I thought maybe I was recovering from that. But it was more than that. It went deeper than just a day of recovery. Plus, Friday was not a good day for me, which I realize as I look back, so something was going on even then.
I always wish I could write during the time I'm going through my depressions and down times. It would be so helpful to be able to see what's going on in the midst of it all. But when I'm going through it I can't seem to focus on anything, let alone write about it. So I do it after, like I'm doing today. And today I think I have it figured out.
I've been frozen with fear.
I have my NAMI Connections meeting tonight, and I'm expecting someone to come unlock the door tonight so I will actually have to lead the meeting tonight. But while that is scary, that isn't the biggest thing.
The biggest thing is something I haven't told anyone because I'm afraid of being judged for it. Of someone thinking I can't handle it. Or someone thinking, oh, if she can handle it she can't be as sick as she thinks she is.
I've become president of my daughter's school's PTO. There, I said it. I'm PTO President. And it scares me. I am capable and competent to do this job, but I'm afraid that others will see me as someone who is weak and sick, and shouldn't have this kind of responsibility. I have bad days and there are times I will be unavailable for a day or two, and I'm afraid that my illness will now be judged as not a big deal.
I am doing so well, and I have made a lot of progress. I am doing what my doctor told me to do: get out and have a life worth living, and don't let the bad days take over your life. I'm making a routine and working to stick to it because that's what helps keep me on track. And I'm planning for my down days so that I can have a sick day when I'm not available just like any other normal person. Nothing will fall apart if I'm not available for a day or two.
I was immobile with the fear of what others thought of me, and I didn't think about what I thought of me.
Well, I think I'm doing well. I think I'm capable, competent, personable, organized, and skillful in many different situations. I think I know how to handle problems that arise with diplomacy and tact, and I can lead with grace and dignity.
I think I just forgot for a few days how far I've come. And I think I'm not going to let that happen again.
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