I like to say the biggest gift my mom ever gave me was her depression. In many ways, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. Even as I near my forties, I am discovering new depths to the intensity of depression and grief that I can feel, much of which was passed down to me through my mom’s genetics.
Happiness, sadness, fear, anxiety, depression, grief – it doesn’t matter what I feel, I will feel it “big”, as my therapist says. I am capable of truly being consumed by the emotions that I experience, for better or for worse. That means if I am excited about a new work project or vacation, I am really excited. But if I am feeling uncertain about myself or sad about something gone awry in my life, I am really sad. It’s 100% with me, all the time.
That makes getting through grief incredibly complicated and, frankly, exhausting. Feeling so much isn’t easy and it can take a lot out of you. It’s a lot like exercising. When I am done with emotion, I feel drained, ten pounds lighter, and completely out of energy.
Ironically, one of the ways that I work through such massive feelings is through exercise, particularly through jogging and running.
I am not entirely sure why I decided I wanted to start running. I believe it was because I saw a video online of a man who runs 150-mile marathons. While I knew I would never reach that level or running (and, honestly, I never wanted to), the concept of getting out for a jog or run a few times a week sounded inviting. First of all, I knew it would be good for my body but I also thought it would make me feel better about the heavy emotions I have to work through regularly.
My first jog wasn’t pleasant, to put it mildly. After about two minutes of nonstop movement, I didn’t know what I wanted to do more: vomit or cry. But I made my way through it and even though I felt wrecked, I also felt excited to get out there and try again soon.
Over the next few weeks, I would lace up my shoes, get out for about 20 minutes, and try to push myself more and more. I made playlists for myself, carved out portions of the day with the best weather, and made sure my water bottle was filled with cold water for when I stumbled back home.
Soon, I was jogging for five, ten, or even fifteen minutes at a time. My legs were feeling stronger, my heart was obviously healthier, and I was feeling better in a number of ways.
I later realized that when I first started running, I was running away from my emotions. If I was having an especially rough mental health day, I would run a bit harder and a bit longer. I wanted to clear my mind, push the bad thoughts away, and focus on something – literally anything – else.
Yet, as time went on, I noticed that I was using my jogs as a time to really embrace my uncomfortable feelings. Instead of letting my mind go blank, I was letting it be flooded with negative thoughts and worries. As my feet hit the pavement and the sweat dripped down my back, I would hold up my feelings at different angles, question how valid my fears and worries were, and process my grief and depression and anything unpleasant that was getting me down.
Then, forty minutes later when my run was wrapping up, I felt as though a load had been lifted. In a sense, I had sweat out the bad energy and feelings that were consuming me.
For me, the trick is to let my emotions get as loud as they need to be when I am running. I am not running away from the feelings, I am running with them. I allow them to be big and scary as I jog. I don’t care if it’s a worry about work, grief about a troubled relationship, or fears about finances, I let them rise up and I don’t shoo them away. For so much of the day, we have other tasks that we have to complete. We are working, we are socializing, we are taking care of chores. It’s hard to allow time for your emotions when there are so many other things to do. And this just leads to them bottling up and overflowing when you least expect it.
But during my runs, I let them boil over. In fact, I invite it. I let my mind go wild and unleash the worst fears that I have. And then I ask myself a few things. I ask myself if there is anything I can do about these feelings right now, I ask if I am blowing things out of proportion or if I am being honest in my reactions. Most importantly, I ask myself if my feelings are based on facts of fiction. Is there something else driving this depression, grief, and fear or is it based on reality? If it is, what am I going to do about it?
Of course, I don’t always have the answer to that last question but asking it as I jog gives me time to think about all the options laid before me and the paths I can take in the days and weeks ahead. I am able to formulate some sort of plan for how to get through the worries and fears I have. It might not be the perfect plan but at least it is a plan and it’s more than I had before I started my jog.
People exercise for a number of reasons and most people are doing it to take care of their health. They want to be in better physical shape so they can live a long, fruitful life. That’s part of it for me. But I want to be healthy in other ways, including emotionally. So I run. I get out on the road, I push myself hard, and I invite the scary feelings that consume me to run with me. This is my time to sort through what I am feeling and I have found that when I am done I feel much better about just about everything.
There are few better feelings than collapsing into bed after a good, long run. Not only does my body feel healthier but my mind does too. Not all my problems are solved but I have made some progress, and that counts for something. I may have shed a few pounds and I have definitely shed a few intense emotions too.
Running away from challenges might be easier at times but running with them is far healthier.
Brandon Marcus is a writer born and raised in California whose work has covered all sorts of topics from pop culture to sports, politics, news, and more. He finds great value in the way that writing can touch the hearts and minds of people from all different walks of life and backgrounds and hopes to continue helping people for the rest of his life
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