I was swamped this weekend. The bags under my eyes are an indication I’m not resting enough. Of course, this always seems to happen at the beginning of a new school year, but it’s hitting me too hard this year. I laugh about it and use the hashtag #thisis30 pretty often, but 3 hour naps are required at this point.
Friday night was the first home football game of the season. The team lost, late in the game, by 1 point. Truthfully, it was an exciting game (we were slated to lose by 26) and I think the boys should be happy with their performance. My girls, on the other hand, must be distracted by a bit of drama that’s unfolding. I’m trying to keep everything together and avoid the drama, but it’s challenging when I’m the oldest coach and the others can’t think for themselves (except my co-coach, who is the youngest but acts older than the other two). Regardless of that, I got home at about 11 that night.
Saturday, I woke up at 5:30 to get ready for the Dirty Girl 5K Mud run. My wave began at 9:30, but the site of the race is about an hour away from my house. Add in the registration time (and meetup time with my best friends), and it’s an early caffeine-free morning. We finished the race in about an hour. Some of the obstacles had long lines that backed up the traffic quite a bit, but we weren’t racing to win either. After a post-race beer and some time in the sun, I dropped off the other participants and headed home to Joey, lunch, and a two-hour nap. Finally, we ended the night at a birthday celebration for his friend’s wife.
This morning, I had to be at school at 8:30 for a mandatory three-hour practice. Another nap after. Then a trip to the grocery store. Now I’m writing. After, I’ll be grading. Oh, and my quads and obliques are on fire right now. Can’t wait for the day two pain of a hard workout. #thisis30
I know you’re expecting me to talk about Joey through all of this.
It’s nice to come home to someone who wants to take care of me. I’m thankful he’s home when I’m falling apart (whether it’s because I’m stressed about work, coaching, writing, or therapy). I have a lot on my plate right now. And that means his plate his full of his responsibilities and trying to meet my needs. This man, though, will do anything for me if he knows it will bring me any amount of relief. I adore him for that.
The longer we’ve been together, the more I find myself bragging about him. Which reminds me I need to tell him the same things I tell others. Joey, darling, I know you’re reading, so here goes:
With every passing day, you bring more value to a life that felt valueless a year ago. Yes, you did that for me. I feel as if I deserve to be treated as an equal, a person with a voice worth hearing, and sometimes I actually think I’m pretty. You’ve made me realize that I don’t want to be the person I was before Mike. In fact, I want to be better than that girl. Regardless of the strength and intelligence I thought she had, the person I’m becoming is better. I smile organically. She didn’t. I feel real emotions. I’m not apathetic or angry every day. I’m just me. And that’s okay now.
But it’s better than okay, because I want to be better than ‘okay’ for me and you. And I think you know I’m working toward that. Therapy helps, but so do you. And your arms. And the nightly kisses to the back of my head. The “I love you, bay” and the “I’ve got this, babe,” are everything. And I don’t have to worry, because even if I stopped growing today, you’d still look at me like I was the magic in this world. Your heart is one that loves unconditionally, just like the one I built walls around after I used it naively. The one that’s resurfacing now. I’d move the stars for you.
Read the song lyrics. It sounds so much like what you used to say to me when I couldn’t find a way to escape my head, too scared to let you in. Thank you for trying so hard. For never giving up on me. I notice, even if I don’t tell you often enough. TTMAB.