I'm a Runner

I believe that it has been scientifically proven that I am a runner.

And, when I say "runner," I am not talking about doing it for fun or for exercise...

Unless you count that one time a few years back when I came in dead last in the local 5K.

Walkers made it to the finish line before I did and I "ran" the entire blasted thing.

Braxton literally ran the race, crossed the finish line, then ran back to where I was which sure has heck felt like the starting line, then chaperoned me to the finish line.

Like, they were already handing out participation prizes when I was finishing. 

But then there was that time when a few of us from work went to "Active Shooter Training."

Oh, Friends.

I was acting as if I was a five year old getting ready to ride a glittery unicorn all the way to Disneyland whilst eating ice cream cone after ice cream cone whilst hooked up to a Diet Coke IV!

Until we got there. 

When we arrived, the doors were locked behind us at a building that resembled a zombie apocalypse where there was no chance of human survival.

I suddenly felt like the unicorn I was riding had been slashed right in front of my eyes. The ice cream I had been eating whilst on the slashed unicorn was actually rotten cottage cheese and the Diet Coke IV was actually sheer anxiety triggers going straight to my blood stream.

People, I was NOT happy.

As soon as I heard the first gun shot, I was out.

Like, Heidi OUT.

Like, I took off running and did not look back.

Like the fastest man on Earth had nothing on Heidi Ray in that moment.

For real. For real.

Like Forest Gump running.

Straight out to the parking lot and not to be seen in that crazy ass building again!

Runner!

Turns out, Active Shooter Training is not the only activity that triggers a runner-mentality.

In fact, pretty much everything in life that makes me feel in any way uncomfortable triggers my Forest Gump fitness to kick right in!

Too bad I didn't have that happen when I was actually "running" a race.

In counseling this week, I told my shrink that I have been feeling an "emotion."

I told her that I can't really articulate what the emotion is, but that I've just been calling it "loneliness."

We talked about it for a bit.

Since beginning treatment, I have felt this emotion frequently.

As we talked about it more, I changed the word to "void."
I feel a "void."

It doesn't feel good.

It feels big.

It feels scary sometimes.

It feels uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

And, it is lots of different things.

This is why we agreed to use the word "void."

It's generic enough that it fits lots of emotions that might be playing out.

She started to write stuff on the white board.

In the throws of my addiction, as soon as I felt any inkling of discomfort about ANYTHING, I would run to a man. 

I would run away from any feeling of discomfort or fear or angst or sadness right to the waiting ear or arms of a man.

That attention would then ease my feelings of void or discomfort for a hot minute.

The reason for those feelings were actually just being shoved into the closet, but the relief from those feelings was immediate - albeit temporary.

This is extremely common for addicts.

People drink alcohol to numb feelings.

People do drugs to forget about feelings.

People view pornography, or shop, or clean, or eat, or don't eat, or exercise in excess to stuff away feelings.

It's what we do.

We avoid the void.

In reality, these feelings are normal.

Say what?!

NORMAL.

It's normal to feel lonely.

It's normal to feel sad.

It's normal to feel anxiety.

So, what now?

So now, I learn to sit with it.

I learn to build up a tolerance for it.

I learn to just feel.

Feel all of it.

On my own.

Since Elizabeth "Liz" Gilbert and I are pretty much besties, I am going to share with you what she says about this in her own way:

Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience...

In our real lives, we are constantly hopping around to adjust ourselves around discomfort - physical, emotional and psychological - in order to evade the reality of grief and nuisance... 

But if you can plant yourself in stillness long enough, you will, in time, experience the truth that everything (both uncomfortable and lovely) does eventually pass.

I am learning to stop.

Stop.

NOT run.

I suck at running.

Plus it hurts.

And I can't breathe.

I look at runners and they literally look like they're on the verge of death.

I ask myself what I need.

Do I need to talk to someone? Color? Bake? Read? Eat? Exercise a little longer?
Am I just tired? Do I just need to go to bed?

Or, do I just need to sit with it and let myself feel?

Because it's okay.