I tend to view running the same way I view long road trips headed back east, mindless. I enjoy the fact that for whatever amount of distance is in front of you that is what you are doing. There is no real thought involved, you just run or drive. I began running when I was in high school because I was really bad at all other sports. I have a terrible equilibrium and I’m just not coordinated. Although I really tried I was not the track star that my both of my older brothers were. By the time junior year rolled around my track couch made it very clear that it would be better if I just worked on my tan. So I began to run long distance, I figured that as long as I kept putting one foot in front of the other it could only get better.
I kept running, I didn’t get a whole lot better, but I found I really enjoyed the mindlessness of it all. I would just set out to run for a set amount of time or a set distance, beyond that I didn’t have to concentrate at all. In fact I found the less I thought the better the runs would go. I would turn my music on and try not to fall or get hit by a car. Running was a break from my thoughts.
So why when presented with a five mile run, as part of a relay triathlon, I was terrified of the idea of it. It hadn’t been that long since I ran 13 miles, surely five would seem like nothing. The difference was that I couldn’t have my music. I started to freak out about the idea of being alone with my thoughts for that long. As I’ve grown up and become a better person I have become much more comfortable with being alone, hell I even live alone and spend a good deal of time alone. But I realized that I’m never really alone in silence, I always have music on, I even fall asleep to music. I have so many outside influence that I only let in the thoughts that I want. So being alone and running without any noise to block out the unwanted thoughts terrified me. I actually stated to think about things that I could think about while this run was taking place. I told myself that I was worried because I don’t like letting people down and being part of a relay team was way too much possible disappointment. I told my team mates to ask me thought provoking questions before the race so I would have a thought plan. I laid awake forever the night before, paranoid that I mentally would not be able to run five miles without music.
Well the triathlon took place, and I did in fact run for five miles and although I desperately tried to think of nothing other than the words to Katy Perry’s latest inspirational pop hit, real thoughts crept in. I have been fooling myself. All these years working on becoming a better and stronger person who is okay with themselves has all been in vain. If I can’t even spend forty five minutes alone in my own head, how on earth could I think that I like myself? I don’t like myself, I never have but I thought that I would never have to admit it. I thought if I could just seem like a functioning human being I was fine. How is it possible that I still can’t stand who I am. I have worked so so hard. I know that I have been a shithead in the past, but I have dedicated the last five years to learning from my mistakes, growing and no longer being a shithead. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Sure I can fall asleep at night, or live alone and go days without actually speaking to people and be fine, because I have music, tv and computers to distract me. But give me a fucking five mile run and I fall apart. I’m not sure that this will ever change, I don’t know if my past will ever let me be. My Dad once said that I must have killed someone in a past life to hate myself as much as I do in this life. I’m starting to think that he was right. I guess I can either just keep plugging away at becoming a better person who is content with the path I have chosen, or never agree to run in silence ever again. I thinking the latter.
Sometimes I want to punch you in the face. I want to say “fuck you for making me realize what I will always be missing”. How dare you show me a little glimpse of what life could be like, if only you could pull your fucking head out of your ass. Do you realize how much shit you have fucked up due to your stupid insecurities? You are an idiot, an idiot that I was willing to help, understand and love. But instead you decided to get into my head and into my vagina and fuck me up right along with you. I will never forgive you for fucking me so intensely that nothing else could ever compare. I will never forgive you for making me want no one other than you. I will never forgive you for being so messed up that you don’t even know what you have done to me. You suck in your stupid boyish ways, you are a child who has no right to be in a beautiful man’s body. God was very mistaken when he gave you those muscles and those beautiful eyes, they are wasted on such a foul creature. How is it that that body is controlled by such a meaningless soul? How is it you don’t love me? Why don’t you love me? I just want you to love me…I’ve only ever wanted you to love me. I wish I never met you.
Thursday September 12th, 2013
I’m not sure that whiskey is really the right drink of choice for me. I feel as though whiskey is for the decisive, the decided and confidant drinkers in the world. Even if what they have decided is to be a drunk, it’s a firm and all knowing type of drinker who drinks whiskey. I use to be this person. I began my tumultuous relationship with the amber liquid when I was young, at the age of 17 I was much more of a strong minded and definite type of soul. I was content and strong in my fuck-up-ness. I knew who I was in my not knowing. Now at the age of 29 I don’t feel as though I have any right to be drinking whiskey, even the lady’s version with a hit of cherry. I’m a fraud, even in my flaws. I long for the days when I had real issues, real feelings and demons. I was not a good person, my deep self loathing made me a hurtful and untrustworthy person. I never meant to be, I just could never gain the validation that I craved from anything or anyone. I worked more in my early twenties they I most likely ever will in my life. I made as much money as seemed humanly possible and I convinced myself I was in love with any and ever man who would fuck me. This trait I have unfortunately carried with me, my subconscious trying not to be so slutty. Yes my deep disgust with myself led me down a lot of paths, I was an anorexic, workaholic who desperately needed to be out every night of the week. I did not know what falling asleep was, I could only ever pass out. I was a terrible and unflattering version of one of those drunk girls you see on “Girls gone Wild”. Unfortunately I never had the boobs to get me any real publicity.
So back than yes I was a whiskey drinker, I was secure in my dysfunction. Now however, well now I am constantly caught in this internal struggle to just deal with the fact that I am normal. I don’t go out on all night benders, I don’t work eighty hours a week, I work a good job with health benefits and I have a good group of friends. Where does that leave me? Am I just like any other Caucasian female living in the US? I have nothing and yet in my mind I am still this despicable girl who would do anything for attention. The sad part is I don’t want to let go of it. I want nothing more than to identify with that feeling of doing anything to feel better. I don’t want to wake up every day content with my life. I want to have strong convictions of how things should be. When I was at the very bottom I could not even imagine feeling that sense of peace that I feel now, so why now do I so desire that feeling of chaos and hopelessness. I miss definite feelings, even disturbing ones. I have become complacent, I have stoped striving for anything. I lead a normal existence and I would give anything to change it. I have no right drinking whiskey, I should be sipping on a cosmopolitan with a gaggle of nice girl friends. Instead I am forcing myself to drink the Red Stage on an empty stomach in a desperate attempt to gain back some of the passion I use to have. I’m not sure when I turned into the person that I wanted to be, but I think I’d like to go back now. At least just temporarily while I discover what the point of everything is. I use to spend all my time trying to change, learn, survive and now I spend no time on any of these things. Instead I let the whiskey burn my throat as I reminisce on what should be seen as worse times.