Mystery Meat
Today I kept it at another easy 1.5 miles. It was about 36 degrees—warm enough to wear shorts, cold enough that my phone died shortly after taking the photos below. From sheer exposure to the elements, of course.
It felt easy. Really easy. Like I was finally hitting my stride. I hated that I had to stop early—I still had so much pent up emotional energy that I wanted to release. Oh well. Journals were made for days like this.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to feel proud of someone, something. To receive that feeling of pride from others. To feel proud of myself. I think it’s an emotion that I want to experience more, but also one that feels quite fraught. Is it safe to feel proud of myself? What if it doesn’t pan out as I anticipated? What if no one else thinks it’s worth being proud of? What if someone is proud, but I later discover that it was conditional and I no longer meet the requirements? What if being proud of myself costs me relationships that I value?
Even as I write these, my fears, I feel the self-protective measures fly up.
I can’t possibly write that, I sound like a child! I should have basic self-acceptance figured out by now. I should be able to feel proud of myself and stand in that, regardless of the presence or lack of external validation.
And maybe I should. I’m in my 30s, after all. A mother. A wife. A homeowner. All distinctly adult attributes. But whether I should or not, the fact of the matter is that I don’t. I don’t know how to do this yet. I don’t know how to cope with the ambiguity of my own worth in the eyes of others. I’ve been working on this for years. Years. And it seems that I'm running in place. It’s lonely business, yearning for something I’m too afraid to receive from myself or others.
The golden autumn foliage has arrived in the valley. The pastel sunrise skies of winter are returning. And despite all the ways that I feel I fall short, despite all the times I haven’t felt worth being proud of, the colors this morning felt like something of a celebration. My footsteps crunched on the gravel of the trail. The air itself changed with my breath.
In spite of everything, I was out there this morning. In spite of everything, I got to be a part of it.
