Anatomy of a Breakdown

Well, one of my goals for the month is out the window.

I had the idea that I’d be able to avoid any kind of mental breakdown this month, where the glumness gets to me and everything fitness-and-otherwise-wise goes to crap. Well, it already happened, right on schedule, since last week I was feeling pretty good about things. Feeling good about things is dangerous; fate always seems to send sadness to counter it.

I’m trying to figure out why, and this time it’s pretty simple. I went to a party on Saturday and met up with a bunch of friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Several of them had really good things happening. And while I’m thrilled for them, I’m ashamed to admit it also made me think of the good things that I’ve been working for for several years that are not happening for me. Fitness is going the best, but career definitely isn’t. Sometimes I’m able to ignore several years of evidence that it won’t get better, but other times…

It’s useless to feel sorry for myself, but it often feels equally useless not to. It’s time like this when inspiration pisses me off most. If any barriers can be overcome, then why not these ones? The sabotages that are still hurting me weren’t all that clever—and in fact, only a couple of them were even intentional. The real issue that is doing the most damage to my career now is the result of a fairly bizarre combination of quirks that could only exist at my former employer.

Gah, this is stupid to be writing—it’s not really helping anything and I can’t even reveal any details for fear that someone sees it and connects it to me and decides to hold it against me in some way. Again, completely irrational except for the fact that it’s happened in the past. I guess I’m just hoping to exorcise it so I can move on.

Especially since: I got a run this weekend. I wasn’t expecting to do the Warrior Dash this year after last year’s less-than-superb experience. But I’ve gotten a free entry through Chicago Running Bloggers, so I’m certainly not turning it down. (I do have a volunteer shift—at a museum, not the race—on Sunday morning, so I’ll have to do that super-early to get out to the race by noon—or actually 11, to be there in time for a noon run.) Hopefully my brain can get right before then.


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