And on it goes...

I woke up this morning and the deep emotional ache met me head-on.

I am at a loss for what is going on with me.  It is on a level that I am not conscious of and it is making me crazy.  It is as though a part of me is gone.  I don't feel fully alive.  Something has anesthetized me.
I can't access all of myself.

My knee is not healing properly so my running days may be over.  I am SLOWLY coming to terms with that truth.  I looked up exercise bikes online...I need to do something.  They say swimming is the best thing to do but I sure don't have the money for a health club membership.

In the field of mythology(which I teach) there is a metaphor of something called "The wasteland".  My life for the past week or so has been a wasteland.  I see life, I see beauty but I am stuck underwater.

I have been impatient with my sons and find that I stare at the clock wondering how I will get through the day.  Only eating homemade veggie soup and smoothies does not make any of this easier.  I have always been an emotional eater and not having that crutch is making this painful.

A day at a time, that is well known saying.  I am taking it a breath at a time.  Here I am.  I am alive.

I've been reminding myself of all I have to be grateful for: a home, my children's health, a working car, bills paid, I am more healthy then not.  It all feels hollow.

What is it?  There is something I have missed somewhere.  I keep trying to look back and see what happened.  What drove me under?

I feel stuck, really stuck.  As though I was on my way somewhere and all of sudden there was an electric outage.  Boom.  Stuck.

When I could run, I was free.  I could put on my running clothes and my sneaks and head out!

And no, walking is not the same.  There was special release when I ran, even when it was hard.

Unless you've been a runner, I don't think anyone can understand.  I am surprised more than anyone as I have never been a person who exercises, nevertheless ran.

Running was a way of not being my illness.  Running was a way of being in the world.  Running was pure me and I loved it.

It's not just feeling sorry for myself.  It's not just a pity party, I promise.

It is an overload.  An emotional overload.  Yes, sooner or later I will come to terms with what is happening to my body.  That moment has not arrived.

I don't know who I am anymore.  If you can't count on yourself, what are you supposed to do?
I am living in a war zone of sorts, I never know what is going to go 'boom' next.

I'm tired.  I afraid.  I'm alone.  Ugh.