Don't sweat the small stuff - embrace it

"It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen." - John Wooden

Over this past week, I've noticed a different in how I'm looking at life. I've finally started to come out of the awful rut I've been in. Part of it is that I have taken the last couple of weekends to myself and had some quiet time. I've been listening to what my brain and body needs. It's not the easiest process when things are nagging at me from the to do list.

But in the process, I've noticed some little things that I've had some success at. Seriously, the fact that I cleaned out an entire drawer in my bathroom was a success for me. Small, seemingly trivial things are what I'm basing things on right now. It's all about baby steps.

We have big dreams. But what we need to remember is that there are steps to get there. I look at my to do list and it overwhelms me some days. Then I remind myself that not everything on it needs to be done RIGHT NOW. Prioritizing needs to happen. Sometimes I need to get away from the list and do something that I can just finish.

The moral? Honor what you can do at the moment. That small chore is the first step toward something bigger. Success builds upon success.

Sharing the struggle

As I was driving home from class tonight, I took a little time to reflect on the past few months and the struggles I've been dealing with. I mentioned in my last blog that some people probably wouldn't like that I was open with my struggle with depression, but honestly, the sentiment above is what I've chosen to follow.

I went to a meeting in Ferndale today with some colleagues, and if they didn't know before that I'm a smart ass, they know now. But anyway, I was sharing a little of what I've been dealing with, and in the conversation, we started talking about the stigma mental illness brings and how when you hear about it in the news, it's attached to violent acts or something to laugh at. It was brought up that one of my colleagues hadn't even noticed any changes. That's not the first time that has happened.

I still have the ability to function. The problem is that sometimes, it's only because I spend an hour talking myself into doing something. Sometimes, it's because my brain just doesn't believe I can do it. Sometimes, it's because I don't know what I can even contribute to the world. But I try to pull it together and get at least something done each day. 

It's not the way I like doing things. One colleague today was talking about everything that her high school daughter is involved in. And another made a statement about how she sounded like "that one" while pointing at me. Those of you who know me understand that I tend to do a lot with my time. So you can imagine that when my drive to do things isn't there, I end up beating myself up because I'm not being as productive as I believe I should.

I share what I'm going through to show others that it can happen to anyone. The stigma drives me nuts. Our society treats mental illness so differently than things like cancer or chronic disease. It shouldn't be that way. I share my experience so others know they are not alone. I share it because it's me. I'm tired of hearing that we all need to be happy and positive all of the time. Yes, there are people that are just cranky. But depression and mental illness are real. It's not something one can just snap out of. 

It's the struggle I've dealt with for a number of years. It's my struggle. Some days are better than others. Some weeks are better than others. Some years are better than others. The struggle has been triggered by multiple things - unemployment, stress, money and social shunning have all been culprits. But it ebbs and flows. When it happens, I just hope to see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I know the tunnel is always around.

Failure and light

"Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly." - Robert F. Kennedy

During the holidays, things started to slide for me. Since then, I've been fighting a pretty deep depression. I've been going through the motions, while longing to sleep most of the day, eat everything in sight to try and make me feel better, and barely stay afloat. I just haven't cared much.

Some of this may be news to you. Life has been off the rails for me since the beginning of 2014.

I've had a hard time getting any traction with my running. That led to me doing a half marathon this past Sunday only having run 25 miles since January 1. In case you were thinking about doing a half marathon without training, I'd highly suggest you don't.

Anyway, earlier in the week, I was cursing this decision to do a race in early March. I was cursing my friend Dave, whose idea it was (after we finish the GR Half back in October). I had lead time, I could have trained. I planned on training, but life and the dark cloud had hit me harder than I have experienced in awhile.

I was cursing on Saturday night. I was cursing on Sunday morning when my alarm went off (let's be honest, this is a daily occurrence). Leading up to this race, I was concerned about finishing before they closed the course. I was concerned about not finishing. But somehow, I still got up and went (paying for it already probably helped). I told myself it didn't matter when I finished, but I'd still get bling.

I walked a lot. It was slow. I used my YakTrax for the first time, and got huge blisters on my feet. At mile 6, I nearly fell (did the splits instead) and kept going. At mile 11, I really started to feel my body screaming at me. I was walking almost the entire time by that point. I couldn't get a good running rhythm the entire race. I thought about quitting multiple times. There was a good chance I was not going to finish this race.

Just after mile 12, there was a cheer station that was packing up when I got there (told you I was slow). But they were there, cheering just as they had been the first time I went by (around mile 8?). And there was one gentleman who saw I was struggling, put his hand out and gave me a high five. He told me that you could smell the finish line from here. And that kept me going at that point, despite the sniveling I was doing because someone cared enough to tell me I was almost there.

From there on, there was a city worker in a truck that gave me a thumbs up. I watched as people that had finished long before me were walking to their cars to go home. I reached the entrance to the school parking lot (where the finish line). I hit the 13 mile marker, could see the finish line and started to run (if you call it that...it was still pretty slow). I ran that last .1 mile in to the finish line.

There were a few people there to cheer me in, but most had already gone inside because it was so cold. But I kept walking to get my medal. Then into the school to warm up. As horrible as I felt, I had my bling.

I've been limping around since then. And while I may not have achieved greatly in the grand scheme of things, I put it out on the line to possibly fail horribly by not finishing this race.

This race was something I needed. I needed it to help me crawl out of the depression that's been keeping me down. It showed me a light I haven't been able to see in awhile. I hope there's more light. In fact, I need more light.