Stress
shouldn’t be a factor, but it is. I’m living a quiet, comfortable life of retirement
from work and now from endurance sports…
I should be less stressed, but I’m not. Little things perturb me. People easily disappointment me. I feel tension in my body that I cannot put
away. Tension has no reason to be
there. It is like I am frustrated from a
hunger that haunts me like a ghost.
After months
now of countless doctor visits, and procedures, and operations on my loved
ones, I feel all doctored out. It a
push-pull thing. While I feel so blessed
to be able to be there for my loved ones; while it is a blessing to be of good
health to do all this, I know a lot of my health is due to my former lifestyle
in endurance sports.
About the
time I feel good about helping others, that selfish side of me raises its head
to say, “What about me? Do I get any perks here in this life or do I have to be
patient and wait for the next?” I know
what to do for others, but what do I do for me, to keep me viable? What is wrong with me?
It’s evident
to me that I am not taking retirement from endurance sports that well. So far, it’s changed me not for the better
but toward the bitter. This skin doesn’t fit me that well at all. With no more war to fight I fear I might get
sick if I can’t come out of this dead zone, I seem to be in.
Maybe if I
keep on with resignation and retirement, I will eventually adjust and adapt,
much like training adapts one to endurance sports. Maybe I will eventually not feel my chains at
all and be at peace with a normal life.
Somehow, I doubt all that because, praise God, I have tasted it. I got through all that and I will get through
this, thanks be to God. And no matter
how hulled out, beat up, disabled, old and useless and pathetically normal I
get, I will always look back on who I was, smile, and be my own hero.
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