The complexities of fear...

I have had the opportunity to experience fear over the past two weeks.  Not the "horror movie" kind.  That is easy to find.  Not the "I messed up at work" kind.  That will pass.  No, this is the unknown fear.  The one with unfamiliar textures and colors.  The kind that you feel should be a part of you and therefore have a "known" entity, but instead dances around you, nags at you, but won't provide answers.

I read when people have a scare in their life, that they "know."  That they can feel what the outcome will be.  A peace.  A sense of calm, of knowing their own body.  Of having the answers from within.  But I dont have that.  As the day approaches, I feel nothing except numb.  I feel no impending doom.  I feel no peaceful comfort.  And I wonder why my body is not communicating me.  Not allowing me to use the fear for answers.

Im not sure I've felt anything but numb.  Days went by with my brain struggling to find something positive.  But I cant find it, that positive place I always find.  A second medical blow did nothing to blast me from this cave my brain has chosen to hide in.

So I have had a chance to learn something about me.  I learned that I cant always meet challenges head on.  I learned that sometimes I CANT control my reactions.  That if I can't meet the fear and get to know it, I can't compartmentalize it.  This has not been any easy lesson for me, one who can always place a name and reason on emotions, defining them and therefore being in control.

Fear is a complex emotion...

Italy

 

photo by  roevin

 I have wanted to go to Italy ever since I was a child.  In fact I dont remember a time when I didn't want to go.  At first it was simply my love of pasta.  I wanted to visit where the pasta lived.  But as I became older and learned, I wanted to go for the people, the culture, the beauty.  It has come full circle now.  All of the cultural interest is there.  The people.  The beauty.  But it meshes with my intense foodie side.  The wine.  The fresh vegetables.  The coffee shops. Balsamic vinegar.  Parmesan cheese.

photo by  Scorpions and Centaurs

And now I get to go.  

Last week I turned 40.  And for my birthday my husband presented me with a guidebook and a card saying it was time for us to drink wine and coffee and eat organic food in Italy.  So in 2011, I will get to fulfill the dream of a lifetime.

photo by Allerina & Glen MacLarty

 I am going to Italy.

How can I still feel fat?

 It amazes me that, almost daily, I wake up knowing my new clothes won't fit.  That I re-gained 35 lbs overnight.  The clothes always fit. The funny thing is I never worry about gaining the weight back.  Im not going to do that.  Instead I have an irrational fear of it appearing again overnight. 

I feel the way I think I look.  Daily I feel fat.  My butt feels large and protruding.  Soft and flabby. 

My stomach flaps in the breeze.  It never has gotten completely flat. 

I have "bumps" on my hips (this one is actually true - its genetic).  Bo says women are supposed to have curves.  Thank god for foreign men who love curves!

But this isnt about Bo.  This is about me and the fact I cant accept I finally lost the weight.  I tried for so many years - from age 23 until age 39 when I finally reached my goal.  That is a lot of years to have the same body and I can't accept that it is gone. 

As I sit here and compose, My hips feel large, my butt feels like it is melting like butter over the leather of the chair and my stomach sticks out a bit from my shorts, belly button squeezed tight as I slouch.  This is what prompted me to write down what I have been feeling for some time.  Because if I write it I will see how ridiculous it sounds.  At least the overnight weight-gain part.

My butt still feel big.

When excitement turns to fear

I was accepted.  I applied to a writing program.  I sent them writing samples.  I fretted.  And then I was accepted.

 photo by Marcus Ridder

And then the stalling began. Enrollment.  Cost?  Not the issue.  My husband said go for it.  Difficult to enroll?  Easy to do!  Not sure about my assigned instructor?  Are you kidding?  He has a long list of amazing accomplishments:  His work has been published in New York Magazine and Saturday Evening Post.  He was an Articles Editor at Life Magazine.  Senior Editor at three publishing houses including Doubleday.  Oh, and he has worked with many prominent authors including George Plimpton.  In case that isnt enough, he has published 6 novels of his own.

No, it's none of those.  It is my confidence level.  I realize they wouldn't have accepted me if they didn't think I had "something", but what if I can't think of any ideas?  What if my creativity has dried up?  What if I can't live up?  Did you SEE my instructors list of accomplishments?

Despite all of this, I did it.  I enrolled this morning.  I now await my materials to arrive and the class to begin.  I just need to find the confidence...

Half-Marathon Training...

 photo by AGrinberg

...has been a frustrating experience.  It never occurred to me that I would have trouble walking 13 miles.  But I am.  I am having trouble walking anything past 7 miles.  My left thigh tightens up to the point I can't move anymore. 

But I have to keep at it.  I have to do this.  It is my birthday present to me.  I will drink more water; stretch more; go more slowly if I have to, but I WILL DO THIS!!!

Fear

"I don't think you have time to waste not writing because you are afraid 

you won't be good enough at it..."

 ~ Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

This quote struck a chord with me.  So much so that it is printed on a colorful card and hanging above my desk as a constant reminder.

I don't think anything has frightened me as much as writing - well maybe the first day of teaching, but that was over in one day.

this is with me, in me.

When I first picked up pen and began to really flow from within, it seemed easy.  Fun even.  Then reality set in.  This isn't easy.  It isn't always fun, and it is always scary.  

I admire those who can dig deep in and pull emotion.  Those who pour out anger, fear, sex, hurts - how do they do it?  People will read it.  Their families will know they have bad thoughts, aren't always "good", are a sexual being in full detail, still remember those things that scarred, and shaped, their life.

I wish I could lift the fear.  I wish I could write fiction about a mom without my own being sure it is about her. I wish I could grab on to those hurtful experiences as a girl, pull them to the surface, using them to make words before they slide away.

Because of these things, I don't know why I worry about not writing because I'm not good enough.  Because right now I'm not writing because I am afraid of disappointing those around me, of hurting them, of hurting me...

Mile 9

Or can I even call it mile nine?  You see, I'm having trouble reaching this milestone.  Today I barely made it to 7.5 miles before I acquiesced to the incredible stiffness in my legs and back and stopped the treadmill.  I was frustrating.  One and one half miles to go. Less than 30 minutes.  And I couldn't do it.  My legs wouldn't move any further.

So here I am, trying to be a problem solver.  Trying to decide what the problem is.  Do I need to cut back on my weight workouts for the next two months?  Yesterday was 2 kinds of squats plus lunges, all with weights.  Could that have caused the stiffness?  Shouldnt the weights HELP?  Shouldnt they strengthen my legs? It isnt like lifting is new to me - Ive been doing it since March.

Do I need to commit to daily yoga until the race?  Would that help my legs do their job?

This is something important to me.  I felt failure today when I had to stop.  I was teary - pain and stiffness or disappointment and inadequacy?

I have to do this.  I have to walk this before I turn 40.  Not usually being stubborn or athletic, I am not used to these feelings.  I am not used to being so determined to reach a physical goal.  But I am.

So I will.