As I creep towards the middle of week two of the Stronger Challenge I am noticing small changes. Some good: Monday’s “Fire” challenge was more fun because I was able to keep up and push myself even harder and Tueday’s “Iron” was a success because I didn’t quit on the pushups this time around. My arms hurt, but in a good way. Some bad: last night’s run was a little wonky. 3.16 miles in 33 minutes. Slow! And my ribs hurt and not in a good way.
Once again, I am slacking on the yoga. The reason? I run out of time. If I’m not joining Nicky on the floor or running on the treadmill I’m spinning in my head. Confessional: I am being tormented by crazy guilt. Without going into too much detail – I have this friend who is a raging alcoholic…and I mean RAGING. We have had a very distant, as really not close, relationship. In the past we never even so much as spoke on the phone, exchanged a Christmas card or knew each other’s birthday. Bordering on acquaintance more than friend, I would say. When she texted the words “help me. can we talk?” a week after Christmas I opened the door and we talked for two hours. I haven’t been able to close that door since. It’s nonstop. The cries for help. Trigger=panic words like Goodbye. I care about nothing. I’m fading fast. On and on it goes. All hours of the night. Last night I shut my phone down for fear that I would never stop responding to the wolf cries. Exactly when does it stop? Does it stop when I turn a cold heart into a frozen solid shut heart? Does it end when she suddenly kills someone on one of her bleary, one-eyed, drives to the liquor store? Or does it end when she finally makes good on her promise to hang from the rafters? Of course not. The question then becomes How far-reaching will be my guilt? Can I will myself to go blind with indifference? Will I really breathe a sigh of relief when it ends, no matter how?
The truth of the matter is thus: The iron is in the fire. It’s burning. It’s only a matter of time before I am branded as the girl who can’t (won’t?) help.