owner of a lonely heart

i had a moment today.

i'm not looking for pity. sympathy. or empathy.

i'm not being maudlin.

but please, just let me share.

despite this lingering cold, i plugged away at some errands today and then arrived at the gym. the errands challenged me in a way that is becoming more and more frequent. last week, the same thing happened. i got up, dressed, pulled myself together and piled into the car. errands on the post-it; attached to the dashboard. but when i arrived at the supermarket, my body betrayed. limbs moving through tar. sluggish. i pushed forth, an unrecognizable feeling spreading through me. i moved at half speed; slow-mo.

it frightened me. it was 1987 all over again. sitting at a performance of "old river" with my dear friend, n. resting on her shoulder during the entire performance, because the alternative was impossible. regretfully leaving a u of t psychology class. i poured a swimming head and staggering frame into a cab, because the streetcar seemed like too much effort. leaning, depending, on my mum as my beagle ralph, charged through high park. bundling in my bed. radiator blasting. countless blankets that ralph would snuggle under until he could bear the heat no more...

end of days.

or the days of carefree health to be certain.

and so it seems i am faced with that again.

when i arrived at the gym, i was already spent. overwhelmed by my limitations. i know i need to give myself permission to be ok with this. but, fuck. i feel cheated. robbed. and alone.

the thought of climbing the stairs up to the cardio room seemed insurmountable. could i really be the same girl who used to run 25 miles a week...? now "swallowed in the sea"...

and so i sat. in my car. pondering. attempting to ignore the ache in my heart.

and then the phone rang. my husband. pouring out affection and support and the tears streamed down my face.

a precious gift.

like out of a movie.

kleenex in fist. dab. dab. dab. sighs from the great beyond. quick glance in the mirror. i summoned my courage and guess what, i climbed those stairs.

and for 10 minutes, i gave myself permission.

i may not be a marathoner anymore, but i am a goddamn fighter.