Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I've been MIA, I know. Trying my best to adjust to my new life, as well as some computer troubles ever since I moved my computer to it's new place in my office.

Life goes on and I have responsibilities and commitments I made long ago. This hiccup in my life will not make me a flake, or at least this is the mind frame I am taking.
One of these commitments is the Hood to coast relay race August 27th & 28th, less than 2 months away (eeeekkk!). I will be running leg 3 (check it out!). It's the longest relay race in the world from Mt. Hood Oregon to Seaside, Oregon at the coast.
Last year we (my now ex-husband and I) ran it together for the first time which makes it bitter sweet. I think it will be good for me to do it alone (that is, without him) this year with my friends who really have come to bat at my darkest hour. And I am hoping for some kind of spiritual closure regarding my suddenly single status, to occur on my last leg. Last year I did have a very intimate conversation with the Almighty himself at mile 5 out of 7.2 of my second stretch (you run 3 legs total so I ran 3, 15, and 27). There is something so empowering about finishing 7.2 miles, after 3.5 earlier in the day, and then 8 hours later the last 6 miles. I mean, if you can do that, it makes you feel like you can do anything.
I get easily motivated by things like "The Biggest Loser" contestants running their marathon on TV, and, you know Oprah ran a marathon once. Then, I see pregnant woman running sometimes...all of these things make me think "Good god I have no excuse not to run." But all jokes aside I really started to run a year ago March. I had never run in my life. My dad made a joke once about how I ran like a girl and I remember thinking "I am a girl" but it made me self conscious and I didn't like running too much so I just kind of stopped really doing to much of it unless it involved another sport. I did envy those woman who were running in 5ks, 10ks, half marathons, marathons, you name it. I just thought "I could never do that!"
Then comes a year ago February. I took care of John. A 55 year old patient after a descending aneurysm repair. After a complication from surgery he was unable to walk. He was paralyzed from the waste down. I remember his face when I translated the neurosurgeon's over the top conversation of medical terms into one John could understand. The surgeon just kept saying "There is nothing we can do for you at this time, " which then John would innocently reply "When can you?" Finally I said what the neurosurgeon was too sad to say. "There is nothing we can do. You will not be able to walk again."
We cried together, John, his wife, and I. And to this day I think about him, so much so that the month after I took care of him I began running.
I run for John because I know if he could, he would. I mean, think about it. If someone said run 6 miles now or never walk again you would run. You would run everyday if you knew you would lose the ability to do so without running. It's something we all take for granted, and I decided that day as way to honor John's loss I would run for him.
I guess it comes with my job as a nurse. You see pain and outcomes sometimes you can not change at times. And as a way to personally work through them we cope in different ways. I began to run. At times when life gets hard you can always look to someone who seems to have a more difficult situation going on. This divorce is the hardest thing I have ever had to endure, but I know I have so much to be grateful for including my legs. And I know I will endure and survive this.
I run off the pain and hurt, and I am healing a day at a time. Or should I say mile by mile . A little Tom Petty helps too. Any recommendations for a good get over it soundtrack to run too?

Monday, June 21, 2010

I think I may accomplish the fastest divorce in history. He left a week ago Monday and I filed at the courthouse today Monday.
Our relationship took five years to grow with dating to the day he asked me for forever in Palm Springs, then a year of planning a wedding, to then 3 years of having his last name..... it all ended in one week. If you look at today it took me 20 mins from entering to leaving the courthouse to officially put my white flag high and do my best to shrug off the bad taste and dirtiness I felt leaving there.

I have an overwhelming "TO DO List" at the moment. One filled with paperwork, house projects, and cleaning up my messy physical life. Probably a coping mechanism, if I keep busy I won't have as much time to cry and dwell right? So as part of the do list I have things to get rid of.

We had this work truck he had to have. We bought it last summer for yard project. He hardly ever used it and for the past six months I have hated seeing it in the driveway. Along with everything else of any importance to him, he left the truck here. And with a for sale sign it has been in my driveway.

And for the past 5 days this toothless, yes toothless man has come by and offered me a much lower price. Everyday I say with smile, toothful smile, "no buddy, ask me later if I don't sell it." But today I can't look at the truck or the toothless man any longer. The truck reminds me of him and the toothless need I say more.

So tonight I sold the truck and a part of the old me to a perfect toothless stranger. It hurt as it pulled away and I found myself crying about the stupid truck and all the conversations about the truck we had. One thing more off my list I guess

I found a quote tonight I am going to strive to become: "Everything changes when you change" Jim Rohn
I found it on this blog I find uplifting, and who does not need uplifting? I just wish it were easy to change.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

I was born a Buxton. I remember learning to spell my last name and practicing it in Mrs. Sakimoto's kindergarten class. I remember being Lindsey B when role was called. And I remember walking the high school halls with my guy friends yelling "Buxty can you give me a ride to lunch?" Even the nickname, or some would say name calling, of "Buttskin" grew on me and became part of my identity. Your name really is like your left hand, you don't know anything else. Until of course, if you choose, you get married.

I was a Buxton much longer than a Contreras, and right now it feels comforting to be able to take my name back. I was so proud of Contreras, even though it took months for me to write it routinely and even adjust to saying it (oh and how I sounded like an idiot almost spelling it wrong over the phone for the first 4 months or so). And I loved being his wife, or at least the idea of it.

I am realizing now how much of myself I lost with that name. And in some way I have been trying to get back to this place of knowing myself and what I kind of a life I want. As I look back I don't recognize this person I had become, and had already started trying to untwist this mangled shell of me. And I think that is why I have been so busy with trips and excursions over the past 2 months. I had been looking for myself from Boise to D.C.

So, I am putting on my new old last name and I am ready to look through MY lens of life. I am on a quest to better understand myself, have way more fun, and just plain be me.

I know there will be days of crying and an utter sense of just being lost but I also know I will make it through this because I am a Buxton. And my friends and family will be here for me.

I am starting with this book: Happily Ever After written by "The" Lance Armstrong's ex-wife....

Recommended and gifted to me by a fellow survivor of the big D. But just for the record, my lost husband was and is in no comparison anything like Lance Armstrong....(you have to have some humor even at a time like this).

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