annabee82's Journal

Last night I went to a nearby outdoorsy store that has a climbing cave for Climbing Divas(!) a free tutorial for women only. It was my first time, and on top of that I have fresh new-season blisters on my hands from rowing. The "bouldering" cave consisted of a cushy floor (for falling flat on your back, which I did, with gusto), rough river rock and cement walls, and starting about knee height various manufactured nobs and handholds up the wall and up across the ceiling. Our instructor started a game on the wall where she did one move, we all took turns mimicking it, then she added another, then another into the climbing sequence along the wall.

Of course, I did not manage so well skill-wise. There's so much to remember! Drop your but, straighten your arms, use your legs to "push the bush" as she put it. Ha! I found myself scrambling for purchase with my feet and losing my grip on the sweaty handhold. "You're a thinker," the instructor said. And I was; I'd hang for long seconds in one position trying to work out my next move and struggling to find purchase, losing momentum, losing courage; my options shrinking with each passing moment. "Just keep moving, put your feet where they need to go and don't think about it," she advised.

I'm a thinker, it's true. But more than that, I'm a ruminator. I often find myself hanging in one position that's not terribly comfortable in my own life, overcontemplating my next move, afraid to go forward and face the unknown. I worry too much about the consequences, the far reaching effects that will echo down my life. I use terms in my head like "never" and "only" and "last." I scare myself unnecessarily, and rationalize it by telling myself I'm being responsible by using forethought. I underestimate my ability to cope with what comes next, and end up in limbo, pressed to the wall, terrified to let go.  

Here in Minnesota we've had the never-ending winter. It was finally warm enough this week (ie. the ice was off the river) to put in and row. That means I get up at 4:30am in Minneapolis and launch at 5:30 in St. Paul. Today the water was high, fast, and rough. But we made it through without capsizing.

I've been nervous today, lonely, restless, sad, angry and miserable. But I also sat out on the front stoop of my work with a coworker in the sunshine today. And a fellow DS member gave me a hug. And my friend Leah told me today that she's glad I trust her enough to tell her I'm feeling bad again (all my friends think I'm doing better still). So okay. I didn't capsize today.

My therapist will be out of town on her honeymoon for the next three weeks. During the weeks leading up to this I thought I'd be fine, and said so. "I'll just journal a lot more," I told her. But this last weekend has been very emotionally hard. Our last session saw me very frustrated, angry, hurt and sad (not at her). The pain is all very fresh for me. If I had to visualize my inner child right now, it would be an inconsolable two-year-old, wailing.

I can't talk to the people I used to talk to. I'm feeling very alone, and worse: barred from expressing my true feelings of rejection and anger.