As I started listening to Emily Halnon's book, To the Gorge: Running, Greif, Resilience & 460 Miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, I thought this might be too soon. The content, too triggering. In some ways I was right. Lately all the ways my life has changed in the last five years has been blaring at me like loud music. Not just the obvious changes. I’m talking about how I as a person have changed. My personality. The fact that I do things that would have driven me crazy not that long ago. The upholder in me took a 180 and became more like a rebel, rebelling against my own habits and tendencies. The Gretchen Rubin fan inside of me feeling crushed and disappointed in what I am becoming.
This morning I sat in front of my bookcase and pulled down a journal that held my thoughts from 2018-2020. I opened to passages where my life felt out of my control. I was going to college, Armando was being diagnosed with cancer, a task that took 6 months. I was feeling frustrated with the health and medical industry, feeling disconnected in my marriage, feeling like I couldn’t be a good mom, a good wife, and a coach all at the same time.
I read these entries and I felt sad for the young woman who felt so out of control and hopeless. However, it helped me understand myself now. It helped me understand why things that used to unhinge me don’t matter anymore. I don’t care if my inbox is not at zero. I don’t care if I stop my Garmin at 29.8 miles instead of 30. I don’t care if I stay up late or over sleep a little. I don’t care if the box turns red because I missed a workout. I don’t need to weigh a certain amount and log my food. I don't eat the same foods I used to, or even repeat the same meals each day. I don’t need certain people to like me or a certain number of clients to feel secure. These things used to matter to me. I needed that control. Our habits make us feel secure, when our life feels out of control. And in 2019, my life felt out of my control.
But I learned something the last 5 years. That control I thought I needed didn't change the outcome. It just made me feel better in the moment--or did it? I witnessed this phenomenon in my daughter as well. She was once so neat and tidy and in the middle of a panicked state she would go on cleaning frenzies always right as we needed to get out the door. Recently we noticed this doesn't happen anymore. My husband teasing her about how cluttery she is now. Only for us to realize this is probably a result of her feeling less anxiety now. Her clutter is actually a sign of peace.
As I get to know myself now, I find myself annoyed that everyone else knows the original version of me. People will say things like, “Well you wouldn't like this anyways, it is full of sugar," Or "You probably don't even stay up that late." I just smile and just think, this person has no idea. The comments always relate to something I "don’t eat" or an activity I “would never partake in.” And what I want to do is re-introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Brittney 2.0”
Halnon's book reminded me that grief can change a person in so many ways. But the best thing grief did for was teach me let go of things that didn't matter and reshape and reframe the things that do. I like Brittney 2.0 even better.
Comments