The conversation from that morning played over and over in her head. Why do you run?” He had asked her.
She had shrugged. Why did it matter? Was she trying to get fit? Was she trying to avoid being at home? Running from her problems? Why did she do anything?
As she lay there in the dark, the sheets pulled tight around her, she tried to fight off the thoughts that were overwhelming her mind. She could deal with it when she was busy; she had a good job, a family, plenty to keep her occupied. Then every day she would run. Sometimes just a jog, which may even slow down to a walk. Other times, a sprint. As hard and as fast and as far as possible. It was in those times that she could disappear into her own world, and be lost, safely, in her thoughts. Any other time it just wasn’t safe.
Maybe the question shouldn’t have been ‘why do you run’, but ‘what are you running from’? Her answer would have been simple, although she would have never admitted it. “Myself,” is the immediate answer that came to her mind. She was running from herself. From her thoughts. From the pain of the numbness she felt. From the darkness that threatened to consume her.
She shivered as a cold breeze blew in the window. Why couldn’t she sleep? Why couldn’t the awful thoughts shut down? She closed her eyes again to try and let sleep take over. But every time she did, in the blackness, the flashbacks of nightmares whirled through her mind. Why did this only happen at night! One after another after another flashed through the darkness – the floods, the accident, the deaths, the heartbreak – it was all as vivid as though it had just happened. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams – past ones and new ones – all that she wished she could forget.
But the next morning, the sun still rose. The eastern sky was filled with the glorious colours of sunrise – pinks, oranges, golden and yellow rays of sunlight, as it came peeking over the mountains, breaking the darkness that held the night. It was a new day. A new opportunity. She chose to face the day, take it in her stride, and to be strong, despite her fears. She had been hurt, she had the scars to show it, but nevertheless she rose from the ashes like the Phoenix, and kept going. She knew she could only do her best. She was strong, but she was tired.
Every day she still ran. Not only physically, but in her dreams. She ran from the pain, from the hurt, from the feelings she didn’t want to feel. She embraced the physical exhaustion from it, because it numbed the emotions for a time. It hurt, but she kept going. Because she was strong. “She was powerful, not because she wasn’t scared but because she went on so strongly, despite the fear.” (- Atticus)
You are strong. You are a warrior. Don’t give up the fight, keep going. You’ve got this. Keep going.
xo
