If you had told me at the beginning of the year that things could get any worse, I would have laughed. It was a bit of a rough start, after all. Things seemed pretty bad. And yet, it was easy to see the silver lining. And many good things have come to me since, including a Boston qualifier and getting married. I was the lucky recipient of a lot of heartfelt support from friends and family, support that has not, I hasten to add, waned. People awed me with their generosity and love at a time when doubting humanity would have been easy. Surely things have improved! On the surface, things certainly have. So why do I feel so terrible? How can I complain when I am so lucky?
Nevertheless, I seem to be at a low point. I think the immediate reason for this is that the trial, originally scheduled for June and postponed until earlier this week, has been moved again, to October. Both times, I found out right before it happened, after weeks of building myself up to the terrifying act of testifying about the things done to me in front of the...piece of garbage...who did them to me. I had hoped to have a relatively normal second half of the year. Now I can't even remember what normal feels like. I still hold out hope for 2010! Sigh.
Time solves a lot of problems, but so far, is not solving this one. My mind whirls, I feel restless and sometimes out of breath for no reason, and I still get nervous if someone is right behind me. I can't stop thinking--it's the biggest problem. It has helped to read voraciously. If I'm reading a book, I can't think about what happened. I read 16 books in July. I've read two and am halfway through another two, five days into August. I can't seem to stir myself into doing much else.
The problem with the thinking is that when I run, a lot of thinking happens. Under normal circumstances, the mind eventually empties and I enter a sort of meditative state. But now, I can't get there and I just relive everything, over and over again. So I haven't been running much. Running with other people helps, but not always. I can't explain why this is happening now. I thought about it a lot when I was running 60-70 miles a week in the spring, and almost had a "bring it on" attitude. Possibly since I had my goal of making it to Boston, and it happened during a training run in pursuit of that goal, I somehow turned the whole training cycle into a protest, an empowerment. Every run was a statement, proving something. But now I seem to have lost that focus...I'm ready for it to go away, and running does nothing but bring it back. My greatest passion has turned against me... (OMG what a sob story)
Well, this is all enormously depressing, and I apologize to anyone who has made it this far and hasn't stopped reading in disgust. I should add that I'm sure this is simply the next step of mental trauma recovery or whatever. I'm sure it will pass. Having something like this happen, and then making it to Boston, certainly made for a pretty story, but the story is not over. The real marathon is the endless slog of colorless days that run into one another, a blur of just trying to get through each day and appear normal. Zombie. (If I'm to the slogging part, surely the finish line is coming up soon?) The story WILL have a happy ending. We do have to earn our happy endings, though. I'm not quite there, but I sense that I'm making progress.