Runaway.

There’s something in my nature that has always made me disappear when things get too hard.  It’s not that I like to abandon things; it’s more that I don’t trust myself to be able to work hard enough to get past or over them. So I just kind move slowly toward the nearest exit and then dash out the back.  Believe me, it makes me a totally awesome wife, sister, daughter, and friend.  I’m the Houdini of all my relationships.

I think I’m kind of a Houdini-blogger, too.  Back in May, I was seriously floundering and a few comments left me feeling vulnerable and attacked, and I decided this was Too Hard.  I didn’t need to make my journey a public thing if it was going to hurt more than it helped.  I wasn’t trying to be a role model or anything, not trying to achieve Poster Girl status — I’m just a woman who wanted a place to hold herself accountable.  But if it didn’t feel safe anymore?  Well, I huffed to myself, it’s not like I’m getting paid for this.  I can switch back to a regular ol’ notebook.

So, I did.  I wrote stuff.  I went to the doctor.  I ran.  I got bloodwork done.  I bought new pants because my other pants felt too snug and made me anxious.  I ate homegrown tomatoes.  I graduated to 15 lb. weights for my biceps curls.  I perfected my Sea Breeze.  I napped.

And even in the midst of all that life-living, I missed my little blog here.  I missed the introspection, the Examined-Life quality it gave to my experiences.  I missed how honest it forced me to be with myself.

Here’s a happy thing: I ran 7.5 miles yesterday at my preferred pace and probably could have run a few more, so strong my lungs and legs felt.  My upper-body strength is back and I feel all kick-ass and powerful when I’m working out.  These are good things.  These things make me proud of my body and what it can do.

And here’s a hard thing:  My weight continues its inexorable creep upwards and while my bloodwork all says “Normal!” I cannot quite shake the feeling something is malfunctioning in my body.  The weight gain is unexplainable, seemingly unrelated to my lifestyle, and it’s challenging my self-image in a way I haven’t experienced before.  The weight gain of ending my diet was expected because I wasn’t starving myself any longer, but this weight gain?  Unexpected and confusing.

I don’t mind being heavier.  I just would like to know my body isn’t broken.

So, here I am.  Stronger, faster, somewhat fatter, and taking care of myself the best way I know how.  And it’s nice to be back.

Thank you to those commenters who left notes checking on me!  I appreciate it!