Friday, July 23, 2010
I've started seeing a therapist. Well, to be precise, I had a first meeting with one, and have another on Monday. Then I'll choose and go from there. (One has lousy hours and is far away. The other is close, but I haven't met her. I want to see how I get along with both.)
But mostly, I've taken to using my long walks to try to deal with some of the angst that I'm holding onto. I spend a lot of time dealing with my own ... everything, really. There's a lot about myself that I've hidden from for a long time.
I do have a walking buddy for some of it. He's a good friend from work, and he's really easy to talk to. He also calls me on all of my crap, which is good when one is in a deep funk like this. We walk, and we help each other. Thankfully, he also doesn't let me dwell like I'm prone to, so we still have a good time together. (That, and he has the most adorable dog.)
The rest of the time, I choose to walk alone. When I walk, I let the stress and strife flow through my feet. When I rest, I observe and reflect.
The world moves around me. Through me. Below my feet.
Heartache isn't easy. Heartache is hard. Heartache can eat you alive if you let it. My feet take me away from heartache, a little more each week.
I walk, and I feel. I walk, and I cry. I walk, and I breathe. I walk, and I ache. Like the pain after a long walk, I know that my heart's pain is not permanent. It does not define me. It does not control me. It is not all I have, all I am.
I walk to challenge myself, physically and emotionally. I explore places I've never seen, feelings I've never shown. I walk distances I couldn't imagine a few months ago. I walk to tear down the walls I've built against my own strength, in body and in heart. I walk, and I find parts of me I thought I'd lost, or never knew I had.
I walk, and I know I will be OK. I will be OK, if I keep walking.