Running and the Invitable Onslaught of Thoughts


I have to give myself some props, I have actually managed to run a portion of my 2 1/2 mile walk without wanting to collaspe. This is quite a milestone for me because I hate to run, my joints remind me why I don’t run and oh, yeah, I HATE to run. But pushing myself, driving myself to the edge is something that I do best when I am upset.

And while my IPod is playing some of my favorite songs, songs that become the soundtrack to my life, I go into that dark space. The space that says I am a loser, no one wants to be with me and God forbid if the thought of being in a happy, committed relationship comes across my mind. I must be damaged in a way that even I can’t see and I wish that I could because maybe I could fix it.

I am not clingy, nor bossy. I tend to keep hurt feelings to myself or feel the need to throwup while trying to share those hurt feelings with others. I may never get it or understand why me, little ole goofy me, can’t find someone that can just love me unconditionally. Apparently the joke I used to share about being a disaster is quite true and who really wants to step into that mess?

I have one friend who has offered to set me up on blind dates. . . umm, think I will pass on that one. Part of it is, I hate to date but the biggest reason is my heart still belongs to someone else. I wish I could get it back, kind of like the stuff I left there, forgot to get and now they are probably in the trash bin.

And the final thought I had as I was finishing up my little exercise routine yesterday morning, I don’t want to trust anyone else, again. While I may seem like this big, fluffy puppy dog, ready to jump on you and love you, I am quite a mess on the inside. So scared to go forward but terified to be left behind. I am terribly insecure and letting myself believe that someone loved me and then proves that umm, not really, leaves me in a puddle of tears. And the only way to make myself feel better is to push my muscles to the extreme, exercise like it is going out of style and worrying about every little bity thing I put in my mouth.

I may feel like crap on the inside but at least I can be skinny again. . .

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