I missed #RunForIt last weekend. In the midst of getting ready to move, saying a ton of hard goodbyes, and popping over every few days to the hospital for last minute tests and appointments for the 🧠 tumor/mass stuff, when Saturday rolled around I just did not have it in me to get up and run.
I don't always know where the line is between giving myself space to rest and believing the lie that somehow, in this season, I am not capable. I felt a ton of disappointment in myself for not being able to show up, and move for things that matter, a way in which people could see me showing up, a way that looked normal, a way that looked like my life before this complicated diagnosis and my decision to move back West to overcome it.
I pushed back on that self directed disappointment by telling myself that I need to cut myself some slack, that I deserve the same empathy I give. But depression can whisper in those moments, and mental illness can take something as positive as you giving yourself time to rest and spinning it into the lie that you are stuck, forever, in your most tired moments. And today, I knew I had to push back against that lie or it would continue to work its way into my mind.
So I ran. I took only my Presto card, hopped a train 🚉 to the west side of the lakeshore and I ran alongside the water, with the downtown skyline ahead of me and tons of people enjoying life in different ways all around me. I actually made pretty good time, but it wasn't about that. It was about celebrating the health and life I've had to fight for, about moving to raise resources and open doors for those suffering, and feeling so full of hope and gratitude afterwards. It felt like a gift to myself and a blow to the liar that is depression all at once. 🏃♂️✊