Sunday, October 5, 2014

Sunday Confession: Run

This week's prompt:
RUN

I'm out of shape, overweight and don't exercise much as a general rule.  It is safe to say that I don't run.  

Not that I don't want to.  I've read the blogs and talked to natural born runners... the kind of people who seem to feel the world shift into a place that isn't so confusing when they break that sweat or find sense in the thud thud thud of their own footsteps; People who find themselves best able to think when their own heartbeat drowns out the sounds of life around them.  I've read their blogs and talked to them.  

I don't get the physical act of running.

Maybe the peace, joy, euphoria whatever you want to call it is something that comes later.  Later like when your body stops cramping and screaming at you and when you reach a point where you muscles crave the stretch and the feel of your feet rhythmically landing on the road. 

I'm still a runner.  Just a different kind.

During a previous Sunday Confession, my friend Jenniy wrote about what happens when your first sexual experience is rape (or when any experience is rape).  She said something that described so many situations:
Like a phoenix with an anxiety disorder and a guilt-complex that keeps it from soaring as high and freely as it could otherwise.
As strange as it sounds, this is what it is like to survive the loss of a parent at an early age and experienced the dissolution of close relationships in terrible, hurtful ways.  I have abandonment issues.  I've been hurt so many times that when I think I see "the end" coming my body flies into "Fight or Flight" so fast I feel like I could actually BE one of those runners who actually enjoys it. 

I am an emotional runner.  When I am afraid of something or when something causes me anxiety, I most often react with anger or fear that both infuriates and confuses the people that surround me.  I hide the fact that I am scared with attitude.  

Some people would say that I don't like confrontation or call me passive-aggressive, but when something happens that hurts my feelings or shows conflict between me and someone I care about... more often than not I take it as a sign that the relationship is coming to a close.  In many ways, I just expect people to come and go in and out of my life as if there were a revolving door.  I don't understand people who have had friends for decades, not that I don't wish I did.  But it just seems that for people like me... people come and people go.  Expecting something different is like expecting death not to be a finality. 

When people get too close, I respond in various ways.  But when it ends... when the phone calls or the text messages stop coming so frequently, when the invitations dwindle, when I'm left feeling emotionally "hanging" from someone I invested my feelings in... I pack up my emotions and I hit the road.  The end is always ugly and sometimes I try to get away with as many good memories as I can.  I run from the ugly ending that always seems to happen.  I pack up rather than drag out conversations and situations that will seem unable to be fixed.  

I'd rather run.  I'd rather accept that everything comes to an end than stick around and try to fight it out only to be let down in the end.

I'm trying so hard to stick things out.  I'm trying to find solutions, not another suitcase for what will become emotional baggage.  I'm trying to have those talks about things that hurt me.  I'm trying not to be a runner, but fighting what feels like the unfortunate evolution of your defense mechanisms often feels like fighting to do what comes natural... like breathing.  Suddenly, staying in spite of what isn't going well feels like a fight for air and my chest feels like it is about to explode and I am afraid if I stay I'll drown.

And I wonder, if I don't run... what happens next?  Do I learn to swim or do I drown?

2 comments:

  1. dismissive attachment style...I have it too.

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  2. I feel every word, feeling, and emotion of this. Excellent writing, powerful and heartfelt. 💓

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