Tag Archives: emotional

the Siren Song of the Rabbit Hole

Or, alternatively, “When It Feels Like Life is Kicking Your Ass.”

It’s inevitable.

There are those days when it just feels like you were shuffling along, already feeling down, then life creeps up behind you in the hall, pulls your shirt over your head, pushes you over and kicks you while you’re down.

And some days, there’s no fight left, so we lay there and take it, almost as though if we are quiet, if we embrace it, if we let it happen, then somehow it will go away and things will be better. Or maybe it’s the idea that if we can feel something else, if we can let it seep in, then the physical ache will match the internal ache, the exhaustion in our hearts and minds will be too real to deny.

Some days we need that ache. The reality check of emotion never ceases to force us to both look deeper inside and take a step back to view the bigger picture. We both fall within ourselves and scream tearing off our skin as though trying to escape from a hell we were somehow bound to yet cannot explain how or why. As we fall deeper within, there is comfort in the darkness when it is familiar. In the same breath, we recognize where we are, where we are going, the potential chaos it will unleash and grasp at any fiber of our being that is willing to fight, that remembers how, that can somehow rally hard enough to not let the vacuum of the rabbit hole win.

Today, the mouth of the rabbit hole looms large. The further I think I am climbing, the more steady I think my footing, the stronger it becomes, it’s gaping void inviting me to cease the struggle, to relax and allow myself to be enveloped and wholly consumed by the void.

For but a brief moment, I relax my body. I release my breath. From furrowed brow to curled toe, I let go and imagine disappearing into white noise and letting all that I have carried in me, with me, go, once and for all.


The warrior woman within refuses. She’ll jam her spear into my own heart if it means that I will feel, that I will awaken. The overwhelming roar of life is loud — but the fight within has to be louder.

And we go on.

archive: a Moment of Thanks

The future holds a new mission for me, one which I undoubtedly never would have stumbled upon had I kept my sanity and not declared a desire to run 103 races. As I prepare to embark on this new mission, a sudden moment of pause fell over me.

Life can in many ways play out like the board game, the spin of a wheel holding our destiny, that which feels like chance is ultimately probability. No ride can ever be completely smooth, as dictated by the cobbled sidewalk that burst my chin skateboarding as a child. However, these moments of struggle, of turbulence, are in truth wherein character is built.

Whoever ‘they’ are, they were certainly right about that.

We get caught in the comparison trap. We catch ourselves wanting. We find ourselves desiring. Thankfully, I found myself asking: who am I to complain?

There is so much in my life which I am sure I seemingly take for granted, things in actuality I am truly grateful for.

Today marks the first time my now-husband and I went out nine years ago. We were able to celebrate with a wonderful day out, a beautiful meal, dessert and more. Through the years I have only grown crazier about him, and knowing I was running to him at the finish of my first marathon really did help push me through. We have two loving adopted dogs, three cats, a home where we planted a garden. Apple, olive, avocado, lemon and orange trees were placed into the earth by our hands.

I am healthy. I come from a large, loving family. There is a job I can call my own which I truly enjoy doing, and I am able to get there and back in my own beloved little used Prius, As I type this, there is a warm little pup face pressed into the small of my back. Our home is warm. Truly, I sit here and I feel blessed.


Enough with comparisons. With longing. With perceived need.

Instead, I issue this thanks – a thank you from me to the universe – for this little slice of existence I get to call my own.

Originally posted on 4.05.2014 on a since-retired blog. All writing is my own.