There, I said it ... and I posted it!

I'm in the midst of an emotional meltdown. I don't think it's a breakdown, because I haven't suddenly just fallen and broken into a thousand little pieces. No. I've slowly succumb to a miserable heat generated by a hurried lifestyle, an ingrained sense that being late to anything is tantamount to a deadly sin, and a flurry of anxiety, origin unknown. Well, unknown for the most part.

It's been 10 years since I last saw my mother in any sort of functional capacity. Christmas 2004 was a time when I saw her in a totally new, genuinely weakened state. Metastatic breast cancer that, 3 days later, would grow sufficiently in her brain that she'd have seizures in front of me, prompting a call for an ambulance and then, what she didn't want at all, treatment that led to an induced coma in which we waited for the inevitable demise of the physical body.

These 10 years have given me plenty of time to finally sort out who I was, as ever since I can remember, I have lived this life of what she wanted me to be ... or what she wanted out of me that she could never get, do, achieve, etc. I'm still somewhat angry about the years, experiences, that were taken from me by her from this regard, how I can never make the experiences again as I'm too old to not look totally idiotic doing them. I've achieved some things based on my own interests, but I often wonder if the foundations of those interests weren't actually forced upon me. I do think it is important for parents to guide and facilitate, not to stand idly by as their children try to tread their way through things. But I don't think it's appropriate to dictate entirely what is done when, how, and where. I also think it's critical for parents, now being one myself and having what seem like out-of-body experiences when I criticize my kids over what amount to the little things, to not go all out with the critiques that I believe make a kid overwhelming self-conscious when coupled with the life-long control of the when, how, and where. So that's where I think I get my anxiety from ... the heart-pounding fear that being late to a faculty meeting results in "all eyes on me, judging me, thinking to themselves how disappointing I am, despite all the promise I have, the potential I'm not living up to." The self-doubt and lack of confidence and the resulting desire to close myself off to the world because I can't handle that anxiety of being judged.

When I think about it all, it's wholly irrational. I know I'm fucking awesome but that I need work hard(er) to keep that awesomeness. I know I'm not super gorgeous by the American anorexic standards, but that I sure am classically beautiful. I'm smart as all hell, though that does prompt me to engage in arguments (debates) for the hell of it. I'm lucky to have a tight-knit group of friends who do the same, whose opinions are vast, varied, and respected. I'm lucky to have a best friend who is also a loyal, trustworthy husband. I'm ever so thankful for the healthy kids I managed to bake and pop out, but at the same time bark at - no, yell, full out yell at - when things aren't done perfectly like an adult would do. I have high standards, but I need to fucking check myself with them. They ARE kids. They ARE learning. I WANT them to live THEIR lives knowing that their father and I will always be here, NOT judging them. I don't know, though, how to spiral my way back out of the abyss I've been in since I was about 15 that finally showed there was some light after all once I was 25, after my mother died. Yes, I'm sad that she died, that my kids don't have the grandmother that my one nephew got to experience. But I don't miss the anguish, the micromanaging, the control. No, I'm happy - thrilled beyond belief - that it's finally gone. Yes, I feel guilty for saying that, but not nearly as guilty as I feel for being a raging asshole to my kids, my son in particular. I recently found myself thinking that I shouldn't have had kids, that I wasn't cut out for this role. That I'm probably producing some sort of mass-murdering psychopath who will invariably have mommy issues.

I wish I could just cut myself off from the world for a few months, to genuinely find myself. To experience those things I missed out on between ages 15-25. I just really need a pause, skip, or whatever button. But I'm always the one who has to be there for everyone, to temper the wide ranging emotions of the people around me, to be the rational, scientific one. It's tiring and I think I've earned a break. But it's always other people who seem to get the breaks ... the real recuperative, relaxing breaks, the ones where you come back knowing again who you are, why you're here, why you're doing what you're doing day in and day out. Right now, I'm just done and I need to get more than an hour or two to myself. I've lived for other people for the last 35 years, with very few exceptions, none of them substantially long-term enough to learn about myself ... the only true exception to this was a year I spent with a host family in Germany which, within a year of my return, my mother proclaimed "the worst decision ever made" because, apparently, I came back a different person. Wow, there's a surprise, I got to know my teenage-self and realized, though unable to articulate it, who I was or wanted to be. How in the fuck is that the worst decision ever? And here we go, the renewal of my own mommy issues.

What's the point of this posting? Not much really. I just needed time and space to unload. I keep things so bottled up so much of the time without much release in any meaningful way, so this is how I can vent, sitting on my bed, delaying my own kids' bedtime to write this down. So on that note, off I go, back to the real world after a short 30min writing session....

Getting kicked out of the Y

As you may know, running does not come easily to me. I've had some heinous leg injuries that often cause excruciating, radiating, throbbing pain to my legs whenever I spend a lot of time on my feet or moving back and forth, like when packing up my classroom. As a result, there's been some serious weight gain. I found that VFFs 'fixed' my ankle back in 2007-ish and have not worn any other type of shoe since. However, Vibram no longer makes the most comfortable and effective barefoot running shoe for me, so I've turned to two other barefoot shoes: Mini-Mil boots boots for wet, cold weather and/or hiking and Luna Sandals for everyday wear in warm, dry weather or easy walks/hikes. While I might experience pain after a long day or hike in either of these a few times a year, I don't get the near-daily pain ... the kind that made me need narcotic pain killers just to get through the day. [Let me tell you those drugs are wonderful, but highly addictive, and the migraines I got when I purposely didn't take them were just as debilitating as the leg pain! Be careful if you ever find yourself on something like Tramadol!] I try to surround myself with healthy, open-minded, adventurous people that can keep me on track, motivated, and supported, even if unintentionally. These are friends of mine I trust and who might also struggle with issues of exercise motivation, scheduling, dietary restrictions, etc. I love to swim, but after a few heart-pumping laps, I start to have small jerks that mimic myoclonic seizures ... that's no fun. I could do biking, but I left mine in CA when we moved to TX and what would I do with the two small kids, one of whom does not yet ride proficiently enough? I do have a stationary bike in the house, but man, that can get booooooring.

Now that summer has arrived, I restarted out Y membership. I found I was paying for a family city-wide membership but we could never get to the facilities given the crazy, late schedules we kept. Whenever we did go, the kids were too tired and were a nightmare to deal with. I looked forward to this summer with excitement and a goal: get to the gym 3-4x per week, put the kids the childcare, and follow the C25K routine, which had been so great to me during my most recent maternity leave. Then, spend the rest of the day running the errands, playing, getting ready for kindergarten, etc., etc.

Day 1 ... the plan came to a screeching halt. The kids were in the childcare, AITB not having been too thrilled to be in a new, unfamiliar setting, but she did ok since NMTB was there with her ... Honestly, I had to tell them she was 3 - which she will be in September - to insure they would be on the same side of the room, otherwise, they would have been split up and her crying-fest would surely have led to the end of my session. I go over to the treadmills, get started on C25K, and then see the notice on all of the treadmills: They are reserved for skills, drills, and fastest mile, a class held the same day and time I was there at. Great. Whatever, I thought to myself. I had seen them out in the field and there were obviously more treadmills than participants. Two people ended up on either side of me and their trainer would record how fast their treadmill miles were. Everything was going swimmingly .... until 23 minutes into my 30 minute workout, when this little, petite girl came over, tapped me on the shoulder, and motioned me to take my headphones off. I paused the C25K app and treadmill to listen to her tell me that because I'm wearing sandals, I can't be in the gym. I say "these are running sandals, look them up lunasandals.com". She seemed genuinely surprised but, being powerless, said she had to enforce whatever someone told her. There was some more back and forth, fruitlessly. I got off, said I'd cancel my membership because of this, and went to collect the kids. At this point, I'm nice and warmed up, sweaty, and not in any condition to be told to get out of the gym. I had just barely hit the endorphin release that I enjoy getting .... I wasn't in any sort of pain .... I had a great rhythm going ... and I was meeting my goal. I asked another woman at the desk to speak to a manager about how/why huaraches aren't allowed, which led to yet another surprised look, one that I interpreted as "yeah, huaraches are running sandals, why can't you have them?" and I ended up speaking with what I can only describe as a bureaucratic nincompoop. I asked him what the deal is, why it is that they don't allow these running sandals that have been around so much longer than "covered shoes" to use his phrase. His reason is that I "could scrape my foot on the moving belt". What?! I could scrape my foot wearing POS flip-flops at the pool. This argument fell upon death - or dumb - ears, then rebutted with that I could use other cardio equipment. No go, dude, because ellipticals force the ankle to bend too extremely for my ankle to tolerate and my knee can't handle that movement either. Plus, why are shoelaces allowed on treadmills? Haven't you ever had a shoelace come untied??? Oh dear, what if that happens on the treadmill, and it gets caught in the belt and your paying customer has a serious injury? The difference between these custom-made huaraches and flip flops or tennis shoes is that they are cut to the size and shape of my foot and formed to the curvature or my arch through use and held securely in place, wrapped comfortably around my ankle, with a single leather strap. I showed him this, that there was absolutely not one millimeter of extraneous material or unsecured leather strapping. No matter, I wasn't allowed in the gym area, near or far away from weights, with these sandals, even if they were designed for running through centuries of design. [A witty person told me I should have told this guy that Jesus ran in sandals, to see if the Christian part of YMCA could be dealt with using humor.]

I asked this manager why he only presented me with a problem and no solution. I was very clear that I could obtain PCP, orthopedist, pain management specialists, and other medical doctor notes to attest to my inability to wear traditional athletic shoes. Only momentarily did this seem to move the incident in my direction, but just as quickly the manager went back to his position that these huaraches were absolutely unacceptable. So, here we are, cancellation forms filled out citing intolerance of special needs by the manager as my reason for canceling. I really wanted this to work ... the kids like the splash pad and swim lessons and I liked that I was heading in the right direction. 

One snivvly little jerk of a manager and now I have to replan the summer. I'll check out the other gyms, like Gold's, Fitness 19, Lifetime Fitness, etc., but, with the exception of Gold's which I have yet to visit, haven't enjoyed the facilities or childcare. I don't mind going to the parks, either, but was hoping for a reprieve from the heat and humidity that can torture me and the kids, never mind aggravate the seizures. I also now have to find a pool, lake, or river to bring the kids on our off-days. The only "good" thing about this is that, due to their 30 day cancellation policy, I'll be charged in 10d for another month of membership, which means our membership ends mid July. At least I have time to find solutions - and am willing to be creative, unlike Mr. I-Only-See-Problems-and-Won't-Work-With-You-On-This Manager. I just hope the kids become comfortable enough in the water so that next summer will be spent at the community pool without having to dole out oodles of money for more lessons. This way, I can just run 2/3 mile there and back without anyone telling me I can't wear my sandals.