Run Like A Woman

I went running today for the first time in about a month, and, hormonally speaking, my timing sucked.
It lasted less than twenty minutes, I have been hacking like a three-pack-a-day smoker since, and I still feel quasi-nauseated. My dog, however, thought it was the greatest thing EVAR.
She usually does.
Anyway, am I happy it was so short-lived? Not a chance.
Am I proud of myself for doing it at all? DAMN SKIPPY.
I'm not the best or the fastest- I'm sure not the most disciplined. I still got off my butt, put on my running clothes, and did it, though.
It was short, but there wasn't a single harassing comment or gesture the whole time, and, having PTSD and anger issues, I can't tell you how much better it made me feel that, at noon on a Friday, a heavily-tattooed woman and her dog could go running down a busy road and not get any sort of negative crap for it.
That will make it much easier to do in the future, no doubt.

I've been doing a lot of emotional work lately. I've started focusing on what attitudes and behaviors I have that make me happy, and which ones make me uncomfortable. I'm reading the book Quiet: The Power Of Introverts In A World That Can't Stop Talking right now, and I have to say, not only do I like it, but I'm incredibly impressed and surprised by this book. I have never considered myself an introvert a day in my life, and this book made me realize that, while friendly, I'm not actually an extrovert. I had, originally, started reading this book because I was hoping to get a better understanding of my generally not-outgoing husband. It turns out, that, in some ways, he's actually more extroverted than me. There's a difference between shy and introverted, and I'm the latter, while I believe he's either the former or an ambivert- about half and half. Shyness is more of a discomfort dealing with people, while introversion is more about how you process things and what energizes you- time to yourself or time with people. I need my alone time, in a very real way. I can enjoy being around people, but, as a rule, I absolutely must have some quiet ALONE time when it's time to recharge. I think my husband actually likes being around people, though he's just not someone who talks a lot. I love him not despite that but because of it. I can talk to him about anything- and he does talk more to me than to anyone else that I know of- but we can also just sit in silence and be totally okay with that. He doesn't feel the need to comment on everything that's said or done around us, and I really like that about him.
All that being said, I'm slowly learning to realize that my habit of responding to everything said to me is just that- a habit. It's something that I've learned to do to show people I'm aware of their presence and I don't completely despise them. In reality, I'm far more comfortable just observing and processing things for a while, rather than pressuring myself to immediately respond to the stimuli. I can't tell you the difference this one little thing has made for my emotions. Giving myself permission to keep my mouth shut has helped me tremendously.
So, I'm sitting here quietly sipping my green tea and writing, and mentally preparing myself to go see some friends of ours (and their ADORABLE infant daughter!) tonight.
I'm getting there.

Save Me

Today is my daughter's almost-birthday.
It would have been her birthday if I hadn't miscarried her a few months into the pregnancy, when my fourteen year old body, riddled with drugs my mother forced me to take every day, which I didn't need, could no longer keep both itself and a child alive.
I still love her.
She would have been eleven today.

It's been a long day, and the new therapist at treatment is most assuredly the devil incarnate.

Fortunately, I bring my journal to treatment with me- well, one of my journals- and I get more therapy from that than this woman most days.
Today, I cried- just like the last two days. The husband and I are still happy together, but the PTSD, in a combined effort with the military, is making our lives a living hell. Between flashbacks, ab responses, nightmares, blackouts, and field exercises, when we're together, we're mostly struggling just to avoid hurting one another.

I made a decision this afternoon that I'll have to make again in the morning. I'm going running tomorrow morning. I'm not going JOGGING in the morning, I'm going RUNNING. I'm going to run down the street, with my dog, around the corner, to the light and back, and if we have to stop, we will, but I'm going to try really hard to just let loose tomorrow morning. I don't want this primal side of me to be caged anymore. I can't open up at treatment most of the time, now because I don't trust the therapist, but also because of the guy who admitted to being a sexual predator and the guy who won't talk about anything but his penis and sex life. Maybe if I push myself to the brink, if I stop being scared of feeling fear or anger and just feel it anyway, and RUN like my life depended on it, maybe then the tears and sweat and pain and weakness will have a place to go. Maybe if I open the floodgate, I won't have to prod anything to come out.

I need this.