Episode 92: who I was

to that person, a thank you. 

Today wouldn't be as easy as it was, if I wasn't who I used to be. 

I used to be really determined about my physical health. Back at Smith, in those northeast winters, I would push myself to the gym on that 3x/week schedule. Weights and back and quads. I'd meet my friends at the gym. It was a social thing too, but in those cruel winter days, some rare days, I made do with solo gym time. After weights, I'd run a mile on the outdoor track at 5:00 PM, when the sky was so blue-purple, it was practically night. I'd race across the last thing with lights, which was the red bridge at Smith that crossed Paradise Pond river. The gust of wind above that river would enliven whatever dreary feelings I had about the constant gray days of a winter that crept into March.

I'd run with my knee-length black jacket on, which quickly dropped to the ground after I upped a steep grassy incline and reached the track. 

28 degrees F? Yes, I'd run in that. 22 degrees F? Yes. Of course. But nothing lower than that haha.

In my sports bra and leggings, I ran my mile. The woods at the very edges of the track would grow scarier and scarier as darkness drew in. I tried not to stare too much into the woods and rather, just focus on the steps in front of me, in case of black ice. Luckily, they salted the track too. :) 

The darkness would swallow me whole towards the end of my run. At that point, I'm so out of breath I don't have the strength to be scared, but made my way back down the steep hill. Past the whole distance of an empty, black soccer field. Across the lighted red bridge. And back into darkness again, between two woods for a short while, before I emerged out to the lighted main road. 

From there, I'd stroll all the way back to my campus house without my jacket, just bra and leggings. My bare shoulders and the tip of my head were bare to the winds and the cold. And my tired muscles loved loved it. 

I did this before even hearing of ice baths and now I know why my stamina is so good in cold weather haha. I'm not an overheating dog, ha. Lactic acid something. Dopamine and the weather. Maybe even mixed with the fear I felt for the dark every time I did this. 

I think about those days. 

How... cool I must have looked wearing little and walking slowly home. That slow stroll, as I cooled off. Embraced the winds against my bare chest. 

I'd stay like that until I reached home and my cheeks. Gosh, my cheeks would feel amazing. Pores all closed. Sweat vanished almost. The only thing that would betray where I'd been would be the incredible amount of salt on my skin if I tasted myself. 

I think about those days. 

And then today. At the YMCA again, where I did a lot. Not as much as I used to be capable of, but I'm looking to past me for guidance. I'm trying to reincarnate again and be her... again. 

I'm very grateful how past-me taught today-me how invincible I could be. How much my body could withstand so much, do so much, and love it. 

I don't want to be scared of the dark anymore.

I want to scare myself. With all the things I thought I couldn't do before. 

I want to be so brave that I could only be scared of the feats I do or the reflection of who I'll become.

Today, I went to the town hearing at Houston's City Hall. I loved it. I thought I had to get a job at some wonderful(ly) low-paying non-profit in order to understand my community's needs, but now? I realize you just go out to the public town hall meetings every Tuesday. Listen to people. Listen, make notes. See patterns. See why. And see how my council member did or didn't respond.

I sat and learned of the rituals of City Hall. The 3-minute speeches. Gosh. I was entranced. I'd go every week, heck.

Even my interest in public policy and storytelling, past-me got that ball rolling a long, long time ago. I'm just living out her interests as an adult. I'm living it up in a City Hall meeting, held at an hour that any working person can't probably make, because of all the time I now have as a funemployed person. 

Ha. 2 pm - 5 pm on a Tuesday?? Of course, there were only 20 ish people present. Clever.

And yikes. 

But in other news, the gym. The Y. I enjoyed it so much. So many classes and so many good people. 

I feel comfortable, but of course, I could never feel as comfortable as I did at Smith. That all-women environment. I mean, the Y has that option too. A women's only space, but I try to assimilate. 

I try to be co-ed, okay? So I can toughen up my self-consciousness, but it really is all in my head.

I'm a good bean. I've ran in 22-degree weather, bare shoulders and all. I've walked home alone. At night. Cried in DC at night. 

I can damn right do the Y. And stick by it. $40/a month!? for young adults. SHEESH.

LOVE. LOVE!!!! 

So, thank you past-me. To who I was.... I was something. 

I must have been something great if I were to even get here today. And try as I do, as I did, today. :)

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P.S. I'm going to try to make these episodes less poetic and more honest. The first thought that came out style, like when I used to in high school haha. 

I think I've lost the art of writing just to write, just a bit. 

I'm still poetic of course, but I'd like to care less about it, in my episodes. 

So from now on, poems will be more focused on that. But episodes are where I get to be honest. Be a sille bean. :P

Honestly though, I do try to stay positive, but lately, that's what it is. I'm grasping for positivity. Every single day that I live here at home. I try to. I do have bouts of sadness and loneliness and fear. All 3 at once sometimes. But I think... as long as I keep moving, or doing, or listening. Simply listening to the world, like I did today at City Hall... I remembered that I am a part of something great. I'm a part of a community. I am a part of a city. With lots of potholes. I'm part of something, sitting in that place.

Brown wood and white speakers.

So... I don't have to get better or feel better so that when others ask me how I am, I don't have to burden them with the honesty that I'm not feeling good. 

I don't have to. 

But when I move and when I do try, when I listen to the world. When I touch the world and the weights or the track below my feet or the bus home. 

I -- I'm moving through time again. I'm not stuck in one place, not in my mind, not in my memories of Smith, or my memories of who I used to be. Happier or whatever.

I'm moving when I'm on that elliptical. When I'm shifting the weight in my hands. I'm not supposed to feel happier, but I'm responsible for something in that moment. 

I'm responsible for myself. 

And that's a privilege. An honor. A gift. 

Sometimes, I forget that privilege. Sometimes, I'm so stuck in some liminal space and I drown. 

As I have, this past week.... it was really hard.

In the gym, I looked at myself always. The way I exhaled on the way up, the way I got ready on the way down. The way I took my breaks between sets, a little dancey dance. 

"I'm cute." That thought crossed my mind quickly. My purple leggings. My orange shoes. My nose.

That's it. I'm cute. Today, I'm cute.

She's not that happy, but she's cute.