A Walk
The best remedy for a short temper is a long walk. ~Jacqueline Schiff
I was mad at the world and myself this past Sunday, so I went for a walk. No longer comforting myself with food, I thought exercise might help. The weekend before I had gone snow shoeing in the mountains and I wished I had gone again, instead I wasted my time putting off chores and then moping about my lousy weekend.
Walking is so basic, something most of us accomplished in our first year of life. You put one foot in front of the other and move in a forward motion. It was cloudy, misty and windy, kind of miserable, much like my mood. My hope was to lose myself in the simple movement and let go of all my anger and angst and let the wind carry it away. Dressing warmly I headed to the golf course hoping to have it all to myself.
So what was bugging me? I hated my job, I hated the bills waiting to be paid sitting on my desk, every male in my life was irritating me, I was behind in cleaning and laundry and my mind was murky with a cloud of depression that had descended onto me several days earlier, much like the weather outside. To be honest, work, bills, men, housework and the weather were just the outer layers of my bad mood. But it was easier to be mad at the stupid stuff, so I stomped my way around, not smiling or greeting the other walkers or petting the variety of dogs that approached, tails wagging. I wasn't in the mood to be friendly or to confront the bigger stuff like a family death, my mother's declining health, my addiction and fear of food or the even bigger stuff that I can't talk about and still have my family love me. So I kept on walking. When I finished the loop, I hadn't resolved anything, so I did it again, once again stomping my way around the 5.25 mile figure 8 loop.
Running on empty, I finally stopped 3 hours and ten miles later, my right foot throbbing from a splinter I'd gotten the night before and couldn't get out. Now I was tired, hungry and still mad at the world, the little stuff less important, but the big stuff still in my head taking up energy and available space. My whole life I kept thinking if I could just find the most delicious and perfect food to eat, the crap would disappear. That is never going to happen, so a long walk will have to do.
“When I'm in turmoil, when I can't think, when I'm exhausted and afraid and feeling very, very alone, I go for walks. It's just one of those things I do. I walk and I walk and sooner or later something comes to me, something to make me feel less like jumping off a building.”
― Jim Butcher, Storm Front
I was mad at the world and myself this past Sunday, so I went for a walk. No longer comforting myself with food, I thought exercise might help. The weekend before I had gone snow shoeing in the mountains and I wished I had gone again, instead I wasted my time putting off chores and then moping about my lousy weekend.
Walking is so basic, something most of us accomplished in our first year of life. You put one foot in front of the other and move in a forward motion. It was cloudy, misty and windy, kind of miserable, much like my mood. My hope was to lose myself in the simple movement and let go of all my anger and angst and let the wind carry it away. Dressing warmly I headed to the golf course hoping to have it all to myself.
So what was bugging me? I hated my job, I hated the bills waiting to be paid sitting on my desk, every male in my life was irritating me, I was behind in cleaning and laundry and my mind was murky with a cloud of depression that had descended onto me several days earlier, much like the weather outside. To be honest, work, bills, men, housework and the weather were just the outer layers of my bad mood. But it was easier to be mad at the stupid stuff, so I stomped my way around, not smiling or greeting the other walkers or petting the variety of dogs that approached, tails wagging. I wasn't in the mood to be friendly or to confront the bigger stuff like a family death, my mother's declining health, my addiction and fear of food or the even bigger stuff that I can't talk about and still have my family love me. So I kept on walking. When I finished the loop, I hadn't resolved anything, so I did it again, once again stomping my way around the 5.25 mile figure 8 loop.
Running on empty, I finally stopped 3 hours and ten miles later, my right foot throbbing from a splinter I'd gotten the night before and couldn't get out. Now I was tired, hungry and still mad at the world, the little stuff less important, but the big stuff still in my head taking up energy and available space. My whole life I kept thinking if I could just find the most delicious and perfect food to eat, the crap would disappear. That is never going to happen, so a long walk will have to do.
“When I'm in turmoil, when I can't think, when I'm exhausted and afraid and feeling very, very alone, I go for walks. It's just one of those things I do. I walk and I walk and sooner or later something comes to me, something to make me feel less like jumping off a building.”
― Jim Butcher, Storm Front
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