While this blog will often focus on my running, I began writing again to document my recovery from PTSD, and consciously focus on the positive aspects of my life. It would be so easy, given my past and present circumstances, to hold on to bitterness, and anger; there is nothing “fair” about so much of what I have to navigate and accept on a daily basis.
It would be so easy to adopt the victim mindset.
I’m not a big fan of “easy” – that’s the main reason I took up running in the first place. There is nothing easy about my life, but there is so much to be grateful for, to feel thankful about. Whenever I catch myself railing against the universe about why, WHY, I am still dealing with so much hardship, I remind myself that in all the most important ways, I have everything I need.
In that spirit, this blog will also periodically have posts about the moments I’m grateful for, that I notice and appreciate that much more because there are so many moments I am unable to have, or enjoy, due to circumstances outside my control.
This weekend, I went on a Girl Scout overnight retreat with Lucy and other mothers and daughters from her troop. This was an act of love on several counts: 1. it cost money, and our budget is tight as we try to figure out if we can keep them in private school (their Dad is no longer contributing), 2. I’m an introvert, so this type of situation exhausts me (and makes me a little anxious), and most importantly, 3. I HATE CAMPING.
And yes, even though we slept on bunk beds in cabins, it was camping. We had to walk outside to the restroom. I rest my case.
It was a fantastic, albeit exhausting, weekend. Lucy was so happy to be there with me, and I had a wonderful time with the other moms and girls. It was held at Fossil Rim, and the retreat leaders did an amazing job keeping the girls (and moms) busy, educated, and entertained.
Lucy is a huge animal lover, so the behind the scenes tour rocked her world.
When we returned on Sunday, it was my husband’s birthday. Lucy actually wavered on going to the campout, because she didn’t want to not be there when Marc woke up. Fortunately, I convinced her that his birthday celebration would be fine waiting until we arrived home at lunchtime.
We’ve been married nearly two years, but I still marvel at just how much my kids love and adore him. Even my 14 year old, who I fully expect to pull the “you’re not my father” teenage angst, is openly affectionate and complimentary with how awesome his “stepdude” is.
Coming soon: my races on the horizon!