All my husband did was ask when I’d be ready to leave for the gym. So why did I burst into tears and insist he go without me? Where did the wave of discontent and despair that overwhelmed my body come from? Why was the thought of getting dressed paralyzing?
I woke up feeling drained and exhausted, but that was understandable given the weekend’s festivities. We had spent the last two days at my son‘s college with family and friends to celebrate his graduation. I couldn’t be more proud. He had just earned his bachelor’s degree in 2 1/2 years and graduated summa cum laude. The ceremony was joyful and inspiring. The weekend was filled with events honoring college traditions, meeting professors, family breakfast, hotel hot tub hangs, dinner, and an awesome party with lots of quality time together — so much to be grateful for.
So why on earth did I wake up Monday morning with a black cloud infiltrating every fiber of my being?
I suppose I could blame it on a lot of things. Trust me — a million different thoughts ran through my head. I was definitely tired. It was an eventful weekend so a letdown seemed natural. I didn’t cry at the ceremony which surprised me. I was so proud and happy for my son and for whatever reason the tears were a delayed reaction. After all, how many people asked me “How does it feel to have no kids left in college?” Perhaps this was simply the answer to their question. The truthful response that I knew wouldn’t be appropriate in the middle of a party with all his friends. Maybe the reality of having two grown kids finally hit me.
Am I supposed to feel old? Different? After all, now that they’re officially out of school and living on their own, what does that mean for me as their mom? I have no answers to these questions. I just know it hit me hard and unexpectedly.
I skipped the gym on Monday and allowed myself to just sit with my emotions, hoping I’d magically wake up Tuesday with a better outlook.
Nature conspired against me.
All week it was a struggle. Every PMS symptom imaginable hit me all at once, making my emotions more raw, amplifying the sensation of drowning. A dark cloud hovered around me everywhere I went, coloring the world gray, and robbing me of a hopeful perspective.
The weather didn’t help. When the temperature was tolerable, it rained all day adding to the colorlessness of the world. Then the biting cold hit and I couldn’t get warm. All three running club meet ups were canceled due to appointments, injuries, weather, and illness. I had no desire to step foot out the door so in the moment, I was relieved. But by the end of the week, I was clearly paying for it.
I did manage one four miler on the treadmill, but since it was in my basement, it didn’t help much. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I did the things I needed to do. I also prayed about it constantly and I repeatedly gave thanks for all of the amazing blessings in my life. So it was not a lack of faith or gratitude. But if you’ve ever had a bout of depression, you know that everything turns dark, flat, overwhelming and often out of the blue. You feel as though you’re trapped in quicksand. You know what you need to do, but you physically and mentally cannot. You’re physically and mentally paralyzed.
After four days of this, I knew I had to act in order to stop myself from completely sinking. So I woke up Friday morning, glanced at the running clothes I had laid out the night before, checked the weather, (15° ugh!), and came dangerously close to saying screw it. But the sun was finally out, my Strava graph displayed a measly 4 mile total for the week, and I couldn’t bear the thought of sinking deeper. I whispered a prayer, thought of my awesome kids, and although neither changed how I felt, I forced myself out the door.
My body was stiff due to lack of movement, my mind protested as negative thoughts persisted, but eventually one foot in front of the other paid off. Despite the bitter cold, the sun felt warm and comforting on my face, my joints slowly loosened up as my body settled into the rhythm I had been missing all week.
Gradually the world gained color. The music in my ears inspired me. I marveled at how high the river was after all the rain. The undertone of panic that quietly haunted me melted away as I ran.
The funny thing is I knew all week that running outside would help me. But sometimes that knowledge isn’t enough. Sometimes we need a break and to process emotions. But if we notice that we’re sinking, we have to FORCE ourselves to MOVE. The first step is always excruciating – at least for me.
Inertia is an extremely powerful force. But so is movement. So are the benefits of fresh air and sunlight — even if it’s freezing cold.
I’m so grateful for this morning’s run. I’m grateful that God gave me just enough strength to take that first step. The world definitely seems much brighter now and all of the blessings of last weekend have regained their color and vividness. I still don’t know what this next phase of parenting means for me, but at least — thanks to an invigorating six miler — I feel much more prepared to handle it.