I'm trying, one step at a time...to keep moving.
To not give in.
To keep my head above the water.
And in those moments where I'm at home and my anxiety gets to be to much, I resort to Nia's old bedroom. Step up on my eliptical and start going.
Sometimes for 5 minutes. Sometimes for 10. Sometimes for 2. Sometimes for 60.
Whatever it takes.
Today has been a very bad day.
Work was good and bad. Lots and lots of triggers. Every young man Cor's age sends that 'negative self talk' spinning.
My parents called and met us for dinner. That was nice. A much needed break.
And so...in return I took a pic I found recently of Cor that I loved so much. (stuck it in my purse so my kids woudlnt' find it) yet it breaks my heart to see.
And climbed up on my eliptical.
Trying to remember that I have bronchitis. Trying to remember that my chest REALLY hurts. But....I needed to work off some of whatever it was that is bothering me. And 5 miles and 90 minutes later....I got off for good. (I had gotten off a few times to cough up a lung, puke, rinse, repeat, get some pain meds).
And if I could physically keep going......I would. Because when I'm on that thing - the anger, the frustration, the "i'm gonna drown" thinking.....its gone. Well, not completely...but enough that I can tell the difference.
And so..at a snails pace...I MIGHT make it to 500 miles by next March. Or the following March. IDK.