Therapy

Running is my therapy.  It's available whenever I need it, as long as I'm willing to head out in bad weather sometimes. Except for good shoes and gear, it's free.  Most of my running is by myself, and I never listen to music.  I don't know why I feel better when I run - it could be because I don't think about anything else for a while, or because I focus on my running and the rest of my brain is free to roam around, or because endorphins start swirling around.  Probably it is a combination of all those things. My body feels loose and powerful, and my brain is calm.  The farther I am able to run, the better I feel.  My feet just seem to do their thing, and the rest of me is free.

When I'm stressed or worried I benefit the most.  Somehow, when I'm all tied up in knots, the rhythmic pounding, the increased heart rate, and the forced focus on my breath starts to loosen those bands, and I can start to relax again.  It's not like I think about the issues, or solve any problems when I run - I have to think about my body when I'm out there.  But something happens.  Sometimes I get emotional, sometimes just relaxed.  I feel better, always.  The problems don't go away, but they do feel manageable for the moment.  Not a bad outcome!

Starring Role

Having adult children is tough sometimes.  In one sense, I'm out of a job - one that I chafed at sometimes, but still the most rewarding job I've ever had.  They don't need me, but they do need me.  I can't tell them what to do, but if I can say it right, I can sometimes help them find clarity.  Right now they are both "between".  Anna just graduated, has no permanent address, and doesn't know if she got the internship she wants.  She may soon be on her way cross country with her worldly possessions in her car.  Patrick is in a tough security situation in Namibia, is completely frustrated with Peace Corps, and doesn't know when or how to report the problems because he'll be shipped home as soon as he does.  Both of them are applying for jobs, but living in "limbo" is really difficult. 

It's difficult to help them, too.  Mostly I encourage them, and try to ask questions so they can clarify what they really want and need. Then they can move on independently.  It's a supporting role - they are the stars of their own lives now.  I was a star in their eyes for a long time, and sometimes it's hard to accept the new reality.  But if I enrich my own life, it won't be a problem.  So that's my goal - be my own star.  I'm not the star in their lives, and they are no longer the stars of mine.  My name is on my marquee!  Hmmmm.  What's the plot line?