Running is all I have when grief becomes too much to humanly bear.
Every day is rough. Most people don’t know how much it takes for me to just get out of bed.
But having businesses, a family, and homeschooling makes getting out of bed necessary.
But it’s hard.
I’ve been making some huge ambitious power moves this year.
But each move takes an incredible amount of effort.
Some goals I had for this year are just too much.
I have to ration everything I do. I’m careful not to make myself overwhelmed.
I have to be gentle.
While people who aren’t dealing with this level of grief can just simply get out of a chair; when I get up I have houses, and boulders, and bricks weighing me down.
But I have to get up.
Sitting down is
I’ve never wanted easy.
I’ve always wanted to win.
All day I think about
my beautiful daughter Yaminah.
Her birthday is this month.
So the grief is getting heavier.
Today was bad, really bad.
So I did the only thing I know how to do.
7 1/2 miles.
Mile one was difficult.
It was a mental war.
Everything was gray and dull.
It’s getting ready to snow so that’s pretty normal.
But I noticed every bit of gray all around me.
I felt like I was like running through thick, heavy fog.
In reality, there was no fog.
By mile 3, my mind told my body “Thank you. Thank you for doing this. I was alone and afraid and unsure of what would happen if we just stayed in bed.”
I’m learning to allow my mind to be vulnerable, to really express what it’s feeling.
My body is grateful. It’s not used to my mind being vulnerable. My body is learning to trust my mind because of this new vulnerability. They’ve been through so much together. It’s easy to become separated when two beings have a history of walls and hardness and trauma and abuse and negativity.
At the end, I felt gangster…like an Emo Thug.