Last Sunday I ran in a race. Now, I wouldn't say I RAN the race, because after about 3.5 kilometers I might have started this fun alternate version of walk/running. But I was in the race, and completed the race. So that's nice.
Anyway. A tiny bit before I started walk/running, I was making a list in my mind of all the people who I needed to tell to keep an eye on me and do whatever was necessary to stop me from signing up for another race in my life ever. I mean, someone needs to control the crazy.
I was tired. My body was aching, I was dying of thirst, and my head and heart were having a contest to see which could pound harder. So fun, right?
After I finished the race, I felt so proud. I wanted to document it, because I did something challenging. Sometimes it sucked a lot, but I finished. I met the difficulties and made it through. And I kind of want to do it again now that I know what it's like. Need to improve, yo.
I think I'm in that walk/running stage of the school year. I'm tired, my soul feels a little achy, I'm falling apart and it seems like EVERYTHING is competing for my attention.
There's a part of me that wants to say I can't do this again. I was crazy to sign up for this.
But I suppose there's also a part of me that can't wait to finish, to be able to say I did it, and that maybe it wasn't that bad. And I'm kind of excited to do it again and improve and all the things.
But first things first... finishing. I can do this.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
3 Months Later
It has been a month since my last post. It's been two months since my post, 1 Month Later.
Those of you who can count and read might notice a trend here. There are milestones to be celebrated, or at least documented, and this seems like as good of a place as any to do it.
Re-reading previous posts, I feel like you get a pretty accurate picture of what post-cancer, post-surgery, post-drama (sort of) life is like. Some days have been fantastically normal, some have been fantastic, and others... well... have been neither fantastic nor normal, I suppose.
As I think back to my night three months ago spent in the hospital, preparing to get cut open and injured and taken apart, I remember how much I hated it. I hated the fact that I needed to be broken to heal, and how I hated that I couldn't be normal, and how I hated the fact that I'd have a long term sub and that this whole process seemed to be unending. I didn't sleep so much that night. I was angry and couldn't or didn't want to see the bigger picture. I just wanted to be normal, and I felt like that was never going to be a thing. I yelled at God that night, because it just didn't seem like he was being fair.
Three months later, I'm not yelling, but I'm still not convinced he's fair. Good, yes. Always. But fair...
Those of you who check in every once in a while may have noticed that I haven't posted much recently. I've opened blogger occasionally and have thought about posting, but everything I write feels really flat and like it just doesn't do life justice. Life is normal and cancer-free and hospital free. I go to school every day. I see people who I really like. The first week of this quarter was probably my best teaching week to date... and then some of the following weeks and days have been a real struggle of figuring out time management and creative lessons and how to deal with the fact that everyone, including me, is just pretty ready for summer. I've had students tell me I'm fat, draw pictures of my zits, tell me they love me, they hate me, and open themselves and their lives up to me in a variety of ways.
There have been some really wonderful things happening outside of school as well. Obviously, I like the no cancer thing a lot. But I've also gotten scuba certified, gone rock climbing AND rappelled down a waterfall, ran a 6k, gotten a summer job, spent time with good friends, and even gone on a few dates. If I were a t-shirt, I'd say life is good.
Three months ago, all I could think about was being broken. There was nothing else, and I think that's ok. If I had known everything that would happen in the next three months, I think I just would have been overwhelmed.
But now, I'm so thankful for the brokenness that was used to heal me. I'm thankful for normal, even when that sometimes means a lot of time spent with 12 and 13 year olds when I would much rather be sleeping. I'm thankful for all the good that was waiting for me even when I couldn't see it, and that it's so much more than my fair share. I'm so thankful that I don't get what I deserve.
Gah. I love normal.
Those of you who can count and read might notice a trend here. There are milestones to be celebrated, or at least documented, and this seems like as good of a place as any to do it.
Re-reading previous posts, I feel like you get a pretty accurate picture of what post-cancer, post-surgery, post-drama (sort of) life is like. Some days have been fantastically normal, some have been fantastic, and others... well... have been neither fantastic nor normal, I suppose.
As I think back to my night three months ago spent in the hospital, preparing to get cut open and injured and taken apart, I remember how much I hated it. I hated the fact that I needed to be broken to heal, and how I hated that I couldn't be normal, and how I hated the fact that I'd have a long term sub and that this whole process seemed to be unending. I didn't sleep so much that night. I was angry and couldn't or didn't want to see the bigger picture. I just wanted to be normal, and I felt like that was never going to be a thing. I yelled at God that night, because it just didn't seem like he was being fair.
Three months later, I'm not yelling, but I'm still not convinced he's fair. Good, yes. Always. But fair...
Those of you who check in every once in a while may have noticed that I haven't posted much recently. I've opened blogger occasionally and have thought about posting, but everything I write feels really flat and like it just doesn't do life justice. Life is normal and cancer-free and hospital free. I go to school every day. I see people who I really like. The first week of this quarter was probably my best teaching week to date... and then some of the following weeks and days have been a real struggle of figuring out time management and creative lessons and how to deal with the fact that everyone, including me, is just pretty ready for summer. I've had students tell me I'm fat, draw pictures of my zits, tell me they love me, they hate me, and open themselves and their lives up to me in a variety of ways.
There have been some really wonderful things happening outside of school as well. Obviously, I like the no cancer thing a lot. But I've also gotten scuba certified, gone rock climbing AND rappelled down a waterfall, ran a 6k, gotten a summer job, spent time with good friends, and even gone on a few dates. If I were a t-shirt, I'd say life is good.
Three months ago, all I could think about was being broken. There was nothing else, and I think that's ok. If I had known everything that would happen in the next three months, I think I just would have been overwhelmed.
But now, I'm so thankful for the brokenness that was used to heal me. I'm thankful for normal, even when that sometimes means a lot of time spent with 12 and 13 year olds when I would much rather be sleeping. I'm thankful for all the good that was waiting for me even when I couldn't see it, and that it's so much more than my fair share. I'm so thankful that I don't get what I deserve.
Gah. I love normal.
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