I am getting pretty good at dealing with big plans in my life going awry and changing in the eleventh hour. I am actually recovering quite quickly from the blows as of late. I am learning to be more fluid, more flexible. I am learning to bend.
That is, until I had a giant friggen hissyfit on the streets of Brooklyn last night. Giant. Epic, even. I was having an ugly cry. I had makeup running down my face in waves, praying for a freak thunderstorm to make me look less emotionally unstable. I was grateful for the night sky, and lack of people alongside the water at such a late hour. I.felt.defeated. I felt used up and wrung out, sitting along the bay promenade.
This is too often an occurrence right now. When you depend upon something like running to keep a little something like major depressive disorder at bay, and suddenly, not only can you NOT run without pain shooting up your leg and into your hip, like a lightning bolt of evil, determined to riddle your psyche with insane thoughts, you get a bit down. (longest sentence ever? possibly.) I simply do not know why I did it. I have no idea, other than an urge to run, or a phantom limb needing scratched. There wasn’t need for me to run. I was right up the block from my gym. There was a spin class being held at the very same time I was crying in the shadows of the barges on the ocean.
I eventually felt myself release into the slow movements of the ocean, with the cadence of the waves matching the waves of pain and breaths between gasps and sobs. I had no “aha” moment. I had nothing so much as friends texting me to ask why I wasn’t at the gym for bootcamp, yet to pull me from my pity party. It was as if I was simply letting everything go. I was letting go of the disappointment from missing out on the Marine Corps Marathon. I was letting go of long runs on the bay and the beach with my friends the Viking and the Navajo (and Apache..he’s really particular about that.) Let me tell you, you haven’t run until you’ve run with those two. They are like 70 year old bitties in very attractive packages. (actors.) Gossipy sods, the lot of them. I was giving into all of my recent stressors and letting them pour out of me and into the vast blackness of the Atlantic.
My doctors assure me this is only temporary. I simply pushed too hard, too often, and made everything in my knee and hip swollen and hateful. The one thing that will heal it, is seemingly the hardest thing for me to give it; time. Time and rest will allow my body to set itself to rights, and my dumb ass thinks I can outwit nature.
“If I run really slow, and take it easy, it’ll be fine” I told myself. Yeah, and if look really hard in a garden of posies I’ll see sprites and a family of faeries, and if I wish really hard Michael Fassbender will finally get over his fear of nudity for a movie. I’m just not.that.lucky.
The weird thing is that I feel like I needed the sob-fest. I needed to lose myself, and give myself over to it, so I could just shut the hell up for a bit. I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not naturally given to long periods of self-study. After my tiny breakdown on the bay, on my way back to the gym, the Gaysian and the Navajo/Apache waiting on the steps for me, I felt a deep and strange peace. That is until the Gaysian yelled from 40 paces, “Hey bitchmonger, are you waiting for Queen Victoria to be reincarnated? Get your ass to class!” (the Gaysian is also British, and his phrasing is often peculiar, especially when he’s tired and the cockney comes out.)
My knee will get better. I’ll run again. The other stressors in my life will either end, or work themselves out. I have friends who wait for me on the steps of the gym, and yell strange foreign absurdities to make me laugh. I have other friends who text me the strangest misspellings, encouragements, and share my love of veggies. I have the two cutest kids on the planet, who make me laugh every day. Somehow, I just need to figure out how to tell myself to STOP TRYING TO RUN, YOU DUMBASS!! I can’t run away from my depression or my problems, so I need to stop trying. I think the stationary bike will get me farther from them anyway.
Now that I’ve written a novel. You’re probably getting hungry. Make this. It’s healthy. I used white whole wheat baguette, but you can use whatever.
Blueberry Banana (yes that combination again, because it’s PERFECT) breakfast bread pudding.
Blueberry Banana Breakfast Bread Pudding
Blueberry Banana Breakfast Bread Pudding
Keywords: slow-cooker dessert bread breakfast
Ingredients (8 servings)
- 1 loaf baguette
- 3/4 can light coconut milk
- 1 cup vanilla soy milk
- 1/2 cup egg whites or 2 eggs or 2 flax eggs
- 2 mashed, overripe bananas
- 1 cup blueberries
- 1/4 cup maple syrup
- 2 tsp vanilla extract
- 3 tbsp chia seeds
- 2 tsp cinnamon
- 1/2 tsp nutmeg
combine the eggs, milks, extract, bananas, syrup, and chia seeds and set aside
tear the bread (preferably day old) and set in the slow cooker, and toss with the berries
pour liquids over the bread and turn the crock pot to med-low and cook overnight. BOOM! Breakfast is done in the morning.
if the baguette is quite large, add another egg and more milk/extract