One year my parents sent me to horse camp. BEST SUMMER EVER. It was there that I earned myself the nickname turbo, as I would run out and saddle up as quickly as possible, always eager to get to the trail rides. This was also the summer I sort of realized how weird I was, and I mean that in the best of ways, although it didn't feel so at the time.
I've always been in a rush to feel family. I meet you and if there's something there, a spark or feeling of trust I'm likely to be as down for you as if I've known you my entire life. Of course this inclination has lead to to lots of troubling situations, and I've had to learn to trust my intuition and gut feelings as if they are truth, because usually they are.
This desire for speed though, not only physically but in almost every other aspect of my being leads me to act out in unusual ways. Obviously with speeding tickets and extremely dangerous stunts when I first started driving, but also in other extremely stupid, and reckless ways.
Married and divorced by 21 left me reeling in the consequences of my decisions. Fast was proving not to be the safest option, and the recklessness I felt constantly urging me into danger was something I knew I had to learn to control before it did damage I couldn't come back from.
I guess that's why I did so much, I knew I could come back to normalcy. As stupid as I am I'm also somewhat good at knowing just how far I could push myself without becoming completely unhinged. Probably because I was shoving all my emotional bullshit away for later, like a little squirrel with it's nuts.
Now I'm paying for that. I wish things were always as perfect as I had hoped they'd be when I had a child, unfortunately they are not, but they are still amazing. Perfect unless I let myself become swept up in the fears of my past, the pain of my deepest scars that seem to twinge at the most inconvenient of times.
This last week has been a huge test for me. My emotions continually swung back and forth, I felt like a tiny boat just riding the waves of emotions around me. I grew so irritated with everyone around me, but most of all myself. I just wanted to feel steady. It seemed like everywhere I looked I saw so much pain...
Then in the midst of all of this I realized I was stronger, I looked back and saw how all the times I hadn't given up were paying off, I had that recognized and appreciated for the first time in a long while. It feel like the first breath of air after jumping into the cold lake, lungs expanding and sweet relief pouring in.
There's nothing wrong with going fast, nothing wrong at all. But unless you slow down once in a while, just a little bit, you'll miss it all. Truly. I'm reminded of this every time I crash and burn, balance is key. The older I get the easier this balance is to find, and I've learned to seek it within the simple things, always keeping the routine of my day fresh and interesting.
I've been learning a lot about friendship, about vulnerability. Those are things you can't speed past, it doesn't work. I've realized my desire to go fast is more about fear. Fear of being trapped, fear of being hurt. Cliche yes, but true and ridiculously hard to deal with regardless. Ask anyone who has.
I'm realizing running isn't always the best for me or anyone, especially my little person. She NEEDS calm and steady, I think all children do. ±As always this parenting thing is kicking my ass all up and down the sidewalk, but I love it. Hang in there ladies and gents, we'll get through it.