Better late than never? I did make it to the half marathon on March 28th. I ran 2:26:01 (11:09 pace). It was cold and windy. I should have posted a race report, but I didn't feel like it. Still don't, really.
I've been in a bad spot. The kind of spot where you feel like talking to no one and doing nothing. This is a hard thing for me...the eternal optimist, the glass half-full girl, the person everyone in my college sociology class called Pollyanna. I should be able to adjust my rose-colored glasses and move on, but instead, not being able to talk myself out of a funk just makes it worse.
It is amazing that the things most likely to help me work through sad stuff are the last things I feel like doing....when I need it most. Soooo. Trying to dig out of the hole here... I made myself do yoga for an hour last night. I made myself read a chapter in the book "Broken Open." I hugged every single resident today. I'm making myself write.
I can't even think what to write about or why I'm in such a funk. There really isn't any one reason. I guess it's just a lot of little things like the phone ringing at 4am, crappy families not taking care of their elders, and missing my sister. Usually the little things don't add up to one bad sad scary Carrie, but sometimes I don't let my coping skills do their job. I stop letting things go and just keep piling it on. Why do I do that? I've read the books. I know better.
So, here's what I think the deal is. I already have this precarious pile of shit I've refused to let go of for some unknown reason....and then people start dying. I know I work with old people and that they are going to die. But knowing that doesn't make me miss them any less when they are gone. And no matter what, you are never, ever, ever ready to walk into someone's apartment and find them dead on the floor. And having to tell their family? Yeah, well, they don't teach you how to do that in Assisted Living 101.
Lucy died, too. I'm happy for her, because she was ready...but, I already miss hearing her gravely voice. We have another resident on hospice and they've called her family to be with her tonight, so tomorrow probably won't be very happy, either. (At least that will be the magic number three everyone here keeps yakking about.)
But, the more things change the more they stay the same! As I am sitting here writing this, Pearl came in to let me know she was robbed last night. If I don't do something about finding her 15 dollars and costume jewelry, she's calling the sheriff first thing in the morning. Aha!!
Things are getting back to normal....
6 months ago