the zen of coping

my little sister once asked me how i could run. she didnt get the monotony of running for 5 or 6 miles, she didnt understand what i was thinking about besides the pain and work of the act of running, she didnt understand why i enjoyed it. i told her it gave me a "runners high". She looked at me with a skeptical smile and said something about not knowing how she could relate to that. i think i ended up telling her that she would just have to experience it, it would be too hard to explain.

today i went for a drive. two drives, to be exact.

i have been under so much stress recently trying to figure out what we are doing with our house, where we are moving, how we are paying the bills and what on earth to do with my post hysterectomy, semi menopausal, painful and bleeding body. its a big list. its kinda a pity party list, i know. i also know i have a lot to be grateful for and i am definitely not complaining, just venting a little.

anyways, i went for a drive to listen to music, look at the fall colors up the canyon and just zone out. this evening i went on another drive, this time with the heater on and my favorite mix on my ipod, and i drove one of my favorite running routes in provo. after a few minutes i was there... RUNNERS HIGH! i had succesfully tricked my mind into runners high without even having to break a sweat. all of the sudden i remembered that conversation i had with my little sister about how i enjoy running. i thought to myself, "runners high is just like when you zone out on a car drive and sing along to the radio or talk to a good friend, if only i could trick my heart rate into staying at "car drive" levels while i am running!"

after a few minutes i started concentrating on how much running was different than sitting in a car, and my damn cup looked half empty again. (which is sad, i really really really want to run and got put on no exercise for a month or until i stop bleeding) right then i decided i needed to write. it would help me to remember the perspective i had gained while looking at the glass as half full. i needed those half full moments to reflect on. i needed my journal.

i need peace in my life... i need the zen of writing, the zen of running, the zen of coping...

i think i am still just coping... i know i am allowed to move on to a new stage with all of this, but somehow i am holding on to the coping stage for an extended period of time, just waiting for something to let me know that i am ready to move into the living and enjoying stage. i still imagine a future baby in my womb... my missing womb... i still feel pains from the surgery, and the choice. i am still coping.

but when i have moments of zen i realize that maybe i have moved on, maybe i am already living and enjoying. perhaps the fact that i can take those moments, no matter how fleeting they may be, and hold on to them and call on them when i need them IS the sign i am waiting for to let me know i can move on. maybe i am not missing the chance i never took, maybe i am recalling the experiences i have already had? who knows, maybe i am recalling the experiences i have in store... maybe coping is just a part of this life... maybe, just maybe, that darn glass is half full after all.

love,
lynsie

love,
lynsie