kdiddy.org

I’m just going to blurt it out: I hope I never have to bury my child. Anything else in the world I could endure. That…I’m not sure that I could survive.

Ahem.

Anyway, to try to push that out of my head, a close second to that is that I hope I never have to take a math test ever again. I thought I was in the clear after my sophomore year of college, when I finally passed the dummy algebra class after failing it twice. But then I had to go and apply to graduate school which required the GRE. I even ruled out a career as a teacher when I found out that there were hefty math requirements to get the bachelor’s degree.

Even though you generally take math tests quietly and on your own, I still feel like I’m having the mother of all naked anxiety nightmares when I have to actually DO math and then SHOW it to someone, since my computations generally look like this:

It’s not that I don’t respect math and all that is truly awesome about it. I just don’t get it. At all. I mean, I can drive a car better than I can do math and if you’ve seen me drive then you know how much of a dunce I must be about numbers. And I have always hated the reactions that I get from people when they start to grasp how little I understand math. Especially since people who have even a little understanding of it are so freaking smug about it.

So if I could avoid ever taking another math test, that would be wonderful.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

There are a bunch of things that I hope to do in my life.

I want to go on a honeymoon with the husband. We couldn’t when we got married, but our fantasy trip was to Brazil.

I kinda want to have another baby. The husband is diametrically opposed and I recognize that it’s kind of a bad idea. But still…the desire is there.

I want to see the light on my son’s face as he watches the sun rise over the Great Pyramids in Egypt.

Those are the big things.

The main thing that I want to do in life, the thing that I just want to accomplish no matter what, is hosting Thanksgiving and/or Christmas at my house.

This might sound kind of boring or crazy to those of you who have hosted such events. And I recognize that it’s a ton of work and is probably pretty stressful on holidays that are supposed to be fun. But there’s something about this goal that just seems to have everything that I truly want in life wrapped up within it.

Every culture feasts. Feasts are a time to bring all of your best work to the table and share it with the people that you care about to mark special occasions, like holidays or achievements. Being able to host Thanksgiving or Christmas would mean that I had the ability to provide my family with a meal, that I was financially able to procure all of the ingredients and that I had a workspace that was adequate enough to prepare the meal without disaster. Attempting a big meal in my current kitchen would downright unwise.

I love making food for people. It’s one of those things that I always, always put forth my best effort for and seeing someone enjoy something that I made for them makes me so happy. I want to do that for our family and friends. I want to set the scene for some of their warmest memories.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Something you have to forgive someone for…

I think I’m a pretty forgiving person. I feel like I used to be more extreme about it and used to completely write people out of my life for various transgressions that I perceived to be personal attacks. But with time I think I began to recognize more and more that there have been very few instances where someone acted in a way that was specifically to hurt me. Most of the time, people just act foolish and end up hurting others and we’re all guilty of that at least once in our lives. And really, life is too short to stay angry at people.

There are a few things that continue to bug me, though, that I really need to let go.

Obviously, I need to forgive everyone who was critical or unsupportive or acted in a way that I didn’t like about my pregnancy. Their words and actions didn’t come from a place of hate and while their execution was definitely shitty, it was their way of expressing concern for me and the husband and the baby. Relatedly, I need to forgive my mom and grandmother for forbidding anyone to throw baby shower for me before the baby was born, insisting that they would throw one for me after his birth. They never did. It wasn’t an intentional slight, just a casualty of life being busy, but it made me feel shitty.

I need to forgive the husband for not getting a job right away like we thought he would. It’s not his fault. And while he could be more fervent in his job search, we probably wouldn’t be in any different position than we are now. He’s not unemployed because he likes seeing me struggle. I know that. I just have to remind myself of it when I’m feeling like I’m doing all of this alone, because I’m not.

I need to forgive my dad for saying I was just like my mom and I need to forgive my mom for saying I was just like my dad. Neither observation was a compliment. They didn’t say those things to hurt me, but it sucked to hear both for various reasons.

I need to forgive my grandmother for being so opinionated. I really don’t like some of the things she has to say, but again, she doesn’t mean to hurt me.

I need to forgive the Steelers for losing to the Patriots in the 2004 AFC Championship game while I suffered frostbitten toes to cheer them toward victory.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Something you have to forgive yourself for…

There are a number of small silly things that I could put here. Not sticking to my Monday/Wednesday schedule for this exercise this week or standing outside of the bathroom plugging my ears while my kid puked on Monday, helpfully calling out, “Just let me know when you’re done, sweetie!” lest I hear, see, or smell his digestive malfunction and join him over the barf bucket. (By the way, the puking of Monday and the ensuing catch-up on Tuesday explains my truancy on my 30 days of truth schedule, so I figure that absolves me on that count.)

But there are, of course, some big things that I should probably tackle.

As horrible as this sounds, I need to forgive myself for having the baby. This ties in very closely with day 1’s truth.

Now, just to clarify, this does not mean, “How could I do this to myself?” This is about my insecurity as a parent and as a good person. Like I’ve explained (or at least attempted to) several times, my pregnancy was a pretty tumultuous time. There were countless reasons to not continue my pregnancy and they were all rational, good reasons. And given another time and another alignment of the stars, they probably would have prevailed. But I could not get my head past the fact that I wanted that baby beyond all reason and rationality. I wanted a tiny family with the husband and I wanted it to start right then and there. Mind you, this was not a Veruca Salt style, “I WANT IT NOW!” but just a certainty deep down inside of me that moving forward was the right thing to do.

But, as anyone who’s lived knows, certainty is a fickle bitch and there have been plenty of moments that I doubted myself. Pretty much as soon as I uttered the words, “I’ve decided to have the baby,” I started to have moments of panic because more than anything, I wanted to do right by the child that would have to live me and the husband as his parents. And I mean, really, how often would you look at these two people and willingly put a small child in their care?

Yeah, not so much

Those moments aren’t as intense as the first night we had him at home, which was one of the roughest nights of my life. I remember stumbling aimlessly around our apartment, exhausted from not sleeping in days, terrified at the weeks or months of sleepless nights stretching out in front of us, my body in pain and rebellion as things healed, swelled, bled, and leaked, and a tiny, squirmy child who needed every crucial thing in life and he needed me to give it to him. I remember sobbing, wondering who the hell I thought I was to thrust that poor kid into this mess that was my life, and volunteering for the immense duties of teaching him how to live and cope and be happy.

Now, I have some variation of that first night when I’m staring into our murky future, wondering how we’re going to make it, and letting the pressure and stress of that turn me into a madwoman. And I wonder what I was thinking to put him through this.

I’m not qualified to be his mother, but then none of us really are. And I need to forgive myself for that and keep on finding the joy in my absolute best goof.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

My alarm finally succeeded in waking me up at 7:40 this morning, nearly two hours after it started going off, and eight hours after my head hit the pillow, where I dreamed about the frustrating ticketing policies of Lincoln Center for The Nutcracker. Ben Stein was the ticket office representative, and he was less than helpful in a monotonic way, so I called him a “piece of shit Republican” and hung up to go have an illicit encounter in the bathroom with the husband.

If you couldn’t tell by these events, I’m a little sick. I’ve been fighting a head cold since some time Wednesday, mere hours after the chatty barista on campus said, “I’ve been fighting that head cold that’s going around,” as he handed me my drink. Ah, well. ‘Tis the season.

The mild illness, combined with an extremely packed schedule so far this month (seemingly everybody’s weddings and/or birthdays are this month), have wreaked havoc on my healthy living initiatives. I’ve been too miserable to exercise and have been eating comfort foods. One crappy week isn’t a total failure, though, right?

When I have a cold, I like to drink Constant Comment tea with lots and lots of clover honey and eat grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in Campbell’s Tomato Soup. Tomato Rice if I have it on hand, but in either case, the soup must be made with milk, not water. Cookies are also essential. Fortunately, the aforementioned glut of weddings and birthdays have kept me lousy with cookies.

I’m looking forward to a Friday night at home, on the couch, sipping tea and recovering.

What are your non-scientific cold remedies?

Well, “after” is a bit premature. And not entirely accurate. I am, by no means, done with my healthier eating and exercising. I really feel like I’ve learned a lot and am now able to make more rational decisions about what to do when the crazy, body issue voice starts shouting.

Around the time that I started grad school, my weight and health in general went completely haywire. Part of that was to be expected. I simply didn’t always have time to exercise or make the healthiest eating choices. Part of that was just coping. I found it very comforting to spend the time that I was wasn’t working, parenting, or studying curled up on the couch, watching TV, and eating whatever I felt like eating. I don’t regret it. I did, after all, survive grad school despite the odds being against me. And for all of the things that upset me about the husband and I deciding to return to school, I can’t say that I didn’t deal with it the best that I could.

But that’s over now and like I said the other day I can only work on changing the things that I can.

Around this time last year, I was reaching my heaviest weight ever, which was alarmingly close to my 9-months-pregnant weight. You know, when I had a full-grown baby inside me. I did a lot of thinking about how I really felt about that, since my kneejerk reaction was, of course, “You’re a terrible, unhealthy fat person.” That’s the body issues talking. Was I okay being that weight? Was I okay with possibly getting heavier?

At the same time, I realized something very important: I did not want to diet ever again. Never. I had been dieting off and on since I was a little girl and I had had enough. I hated feeling hungry. I hated thinking about every bite of food beyond, “Will this taste good and is it a good thing to eat?” So I started working on changing my eating little by little to an overall healthier approach and figuring out how I was going to squeeze in some exercise.

It’s been (and still is) a very slow process. I’m still figuring out how and when to get more exercise in.

Numbers-wise, I haven’t lost a ton of weight. And I’m not worrying about it. But I feel a lot better and I look differently. I think I was getting to a point where I was willing to accept the body that I had, but separated the getting healthier from my weight, if that makes sense, and wanted to see where that took me.

So, about a year ago, I posted this picture to Twitter. The occasion was that I’d had a haircut and was really not sure how I felt about it. So I took to the internet for reassurance.

My shirt was obviously working pretty hard, but I wasn’t thoroughly unhappy with how I looked. I just wasn’t very healthy.

The other day, I happened to be wearing that shirt again and decided to do a comparison. Pardon the markedly crappier hair.

I like this version of my body, too, and I think it likes me back since it doesn’t complain quite as loudly as some of the previous versions.

So, there. Progress. Interesting to see, no?

About four and a half years after Frank stood a few feet behind me, supporting me as I married the husband, I stood a few feet behind him as he married his wife. It was super cool and I felt incredibly lucky to be able to say to people who asked me that day, “Frank and I have been friends for 11 years. He was in my wedding and now I’m in his.”

It was a lovely day and it’s so life-affirming to witness the union of two people who are genuinely in love and devoted to each other. Those really are the moments that we live for, you know?

I brought my camera and thought about grabbing it a few times, but ultimately decided to leave it in my bag and just experience the day. Besides, there were professionals on hand to capture the action. I did snap a quick picture of myself in the mirror, because I wanted to make sure that my hairdo was documented.

I met up with the bridesmaids at a salon on Saturday morning and told the hairdresser that I just wanted my hair blown out straight. He nodded, then pursed his lips, then finally said, “I think we should do an up-do!” Err, okay. I was not facing the mirror for most of the ‘do’s creation, and kept getting increasingly nervous when I saw ringlets out of the corner of my eye and when the hairdresser said, “I need another can of hairspray.” Forty-two bobby pins later (I counted), I had that super cool hairdo. It went well with my dress, which was pretty retro. The husband and the baby thought I looked silly, but whatever. It was fun to play dress-up.

I was wearing a pretty hardcore foundation garment and I understood why women in the 40s, 50s, and 60s were so thin: you can’t physically eat very much of anything when the possibility of stomach expansion is simply eliminated.

The cookie table was epic. People were practically sick from eating so many and there were still hundreds left over. Relatedly, if anyone wants to come over for snickerdoodles, I have a couple dozen.

After the wedding, the husband and I went to VIA because he was slated to play records. It was a pretty cool event and it was encouraging to see so many people just out and taking in musical performances that they probably wouldn’t have given a second glance otherwise. (Shh…can you hear that? I can hear someone’s horizons broadening!)

We got to see Dam Funk perform, which was pretty cool. He and the husband chatted afterwards and are, like, BFFs now.

Wedgie-worthy thought #1, while folded over in yoga class: “Squee! My toenail polish matches my yoga mat EXACTLY!”

Wedgie-worthy thought #2, while thinking about meals and groceries for the next few days: “Dammit, I’m out of quinoa.”

Wedgie-worthy thought #3, that I actually uttered out loud yesterday in the car: “I find lately that I’m only comfortable writing prose. Is that pretentious?”

Regarding the first two wedgies, in between episodes of morose navel-gazing, I’ve been working on my health a lot. I’ve become addicted to so-called “healthy living” blogs. I’ve been exercising at least a couple of times a week since March. And I think I’ve reached some sort of peace with food, which is a huge deal.

You’ll notice that a bulk of the links in the left sidebar are for food blogs. This tells you several things about me: that I like to cook and bake, and that food takes up a good portion of my thoughts and energy. This used to manifest itself in a number of bad ways. “Did I eat too much? Did that have too much fat in it? Should I just not eat at all today and tomorrow? To hell with it, I’m just going to eat everything in sight.”

It’s Eating Disorders 101 that people with food/body image issues who feel out of control of their lives tend to focus their control-freak energy on their bodies and this often has disastrous results. It has for me in the past. But this feels…healthier. For the first time that I can remember, I want to be healthy, not just skinny. I’m discovering a lot of joy in eating things that are good for me and it makes my occasional indulgences that much more enjoyable and way less guilt-inducing.

Some of the blogs that I’ve found really inspiring are fANNEtastic food, Kath Eats Real Food, (never home)maker, The Front Burner, and the edible perspective. Clicking on the blog rolls of any of those will take you down a rabbit hole of other, similarly awesome blogs, so check those out when you have a few hours that you can dedicate to reading (and drooling).

Inspired by these bloggers, I’ve been eating oatmeal nearly every day for breakfast for a few months and I’ve got to say that it’s been one of the best things I’ve done for myself. (never home)maker got me hooked on these Chai-Spiced Autumn Oats. I tweaked that formula a little by skipping the apple and peanut butter and replacing them with a banana. Eye-rollingly delicious. edible perspective has me making my own Maple-Roasted Cinnamon Almond Butter, which I put on my oatmeal in the morning. Unfortunately, my last batch didn’t turn out well. I used my smaller food processor which just wasn’t up for the job and ended up with a crumbly paste instead of a butter. Still tasty, though. I just have to be careful about making it when the baby is around since he’s allergic. And The Front Burner has me excited about making my own protein powder mix. I’m still assembling the ingredients, which are a somewhat heavy upfront investment. She also has a fantastic tofu tutorial.

All of those bloggers are also runners, which is also really inspiring to me. Also on my left sidebar, you’ll see my Daily Mile widget that shows what activity I’ve done that day. Yesterday, I got to show off my 3.42 mile run, which is the farthest that I’ve ever run (though there are some quick walking breaks in there, but I don’t claim to be a marathoner), and there’s usually a yoga class sprinkled in there.

I can’t make the economy better. I can’t make someone hire my totally awesome husband, who worked really hard to become an electrical engineer and is so bummed that he can’t break into that industry. I can’t wish away our student debt or our terrible kitchen. But I can take care of myself so that I’m better able to take care of my boys. So that’s what I’ll do.

Jason stood in front of me, expectantly, as I pondered my purchase. His black jacket was smudged with foundation and he smelled like cigarettes, especially when he leaned in to apply the products that I was sampling.

“I’ll take the primer, the powder, the concealer, the brushes…and the eye cream. I don’t need any moisturizer,” I said, finally.

“Great! Just meet me up at the register and we’ll get you rung up.” Jason had some odd tic where he drew his breath in sharply and quickly through his teeth every few words.

At the counter, I went through the motions of signing up for some loyalty card and dumped the free samples that I’d earned into my purse. I fingered my credit card while Jason totaled my order. I couldn’t afford all of this stuff, but I wanted it.

“Okay, Kelly, that’ll be $115 even,” said Jason cheerily as his eyes darted toward the credit card machine.

My face flushed at the total. I felt shameful about my indulgence. $115 could buy nearly two weeks of groceries. I swallowed and slid my card through the machine and signed my name on the screen as Jason made chit chat with me about my job and my life. My name stared back at me from the oddly soothing light blue screen, choppy, pixelated, and more awkward than my regular signature. It was like a cartoon of commerce.

$115 got me a small bag that barely weighed anything at all. The eye cream was the priciest item. I had asked Jason about the dark, baggy circles under my eyes and had quickly added that I’d always had them, even when I was little. I realized that I always explained this unfortunate feature of mine away before anyone suggested that I was tired, or sad, or stressed out, or melting into the earth, eyes first.

“Well, they’re hereditary,” Jason explained, which instantly made me feel a little better. It wasn’t my fault, you see. The bags weren’t there because I’d only slept a few hours a night for years or because I cried too often about things that I can’t change. “But this cream will keep that area moisturized and minimize the darkness by…” Jason droned on, spouting what I knew was probably pseudo-science dreamed up by the cosmetics industry.

My eye cream. It sounded so grown up. Of the things that I purchased that day a few weeks ago, it would turn out to be the one that I use most often. When the cream dried, it would stiffen slightly, making the skin underneath my eyes feel tighter, making me feel a little bit cured somehow.

I owned eye cream. I was someone who bought a product called, “eye cream.” This spur-of-the-moment purchase at Sephora wasn’t just a 4 ounce pump of white goo but a rite of passage.

The baby and I squinted in the morning light and I glanced down at him and winked. Up close he looked big, but he would pace a few feet away from me and I couldn’t believe how tiny he still looked.

“You look old,” he said, out of nowhere.

“Well, thanks,” I muttered.

“You do. You look old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not saying that to be mean.”

“Thanks.”

“Quit saying, “Thanks,” all sarcastically!”

“Well, what do you want me to say? ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m old. Think I’ll just croak right here.'”

It wasn’t an angry conversation. I wasn’t even that hurt by his observation. The cracks in the veneer that start to show up on my people my age must look like giant canyons and vast forests of gray hairs. Everything is huge when you’re that little.

“Mum. Mum, I have a nosebleed.”

The baby’s wiry shadow stood by my bed, his hands clutching his nose.

“Are you okay?” I muttered, poking myself in the eye with my glasses as I pulled myself out of bed.

“Yeah.”

We stumbled to the bathroom and I assessed his nose. It wasn’t bleeding very badly. A few quick applications of pressure and he was back in bed.

I returned to my bed and nudged the husband’s knee out of my spot before curling my pillow back under my head and closing my eyes.

I expected to fall back to sleep immediately but instead a convention of worries began in my brain. All of the regular players were there: How Will We Ever Pay Our Student Loans showed up with Maybe We Should Try to Sell the House. Should I Get a Second Job on the Weekends came stumbling in followed by I’m a Terrible Parent, who promptly put the lampshade on her head and ended the night by peeing in the front yard and calling her best friend a bitch. Again.

These are all the kinds of things that are not affected whatsoever by worrying, especially not at 4:30 a.m., thereby making my worrying pointless and self-indulgent.

My body started to tense up the way that it does when I’m worrying like this. My jaw clenched, my shoulders rose, my legs wouldn’t relax. I whipped the covers off of me and went downstairs, feeling the need to direct the tension elsewhere.

I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen a little bit, every few minutes poking my head through the blinds to see if there was any hint of daylight yet. A weird idea had crept into my unexpected, early morning housekeeping: go for a jog.

I had started jogging about 5 months ago and was surprised to find that I enjoyed it. Or rather, I enjoyed how I felt when my jogs were over and found myself getting antsy on the days that I didn’t have that release.

Estimating that sunrise was only about 10 minutes away, I pulled on my jogging gear, grabbed my phone and my key, and quietly made my way outside.

I warmed up by walking down our quiet street and down toward the main drag where there was more light. The only other people that I saw were the bakers in the two bakeries along the way. They were busy making the morning’s treats, doughnut-scented traps that nearly lured me in.

Finally, at the end of the main drag, I broke into my run and immediately had to confront a small hill.

The run wasn’t easy. I’m not used to hills and the lingering darkness of the lazy dawn and my uncertainty of my timing had me a little worried. My only companion was the automated voice of my running application that told me how far I had gone.

But I kept going, up into the next neighborhood and very nearly into the one after that. On my way back, the sun was finally starting to blink its eyes open and emit that sleepy blue light. A few other runners and walkers were out by then. They all grinned at me as I huffed past them.

When I got back to my house, I was no richer than I had been, but I felt somehow lighter. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and rinsed my still sleepy muscles in the warm water, thinking maybe I could go on for one more day.