How Exactly Did I Get Here?

The thought of blogging scares me somehow.  Or rather, the thought of blogging and somehow failing at it scares me.  I always wished I was the type of person to keep a written record of the monotony of my daily life. I've started and stopped journaling about a hundred times it feels like - in notebooks, on livejournal, or just in a google doc, always being sure to destroy the evidence afterwards.

This time, the impetus to journal, via blogging, came from my best friend.  Here is a transcript of the conversation:

Me: I think I want to do a reading challenge for 2016
Kat: You should blog about it
Me: Or I'll just text you about it.  Same amount of people would read it.
Kat: Even if no one reads it I bet it would be therapeutic

And it was then I paused.  Ever since I made the jump last year to tackling my anxieties head on, I have been on the look out for ways to 'find my zen,' which has always proven to be so elusive.  I have no chill, many days I just simply cannot, and I actively dislike being on edge 24/7.  And once I realized the counselor in me was not going to be able to fix myself, I sought help.  Since then I have been trying to build on the progress I made in many ways.  I run, which helps me not want to hit people.  I crochet, which keeps my hands busy and provides a warm item at the end, a physical relic of channeling my anxiety.  I also read, which provides a momentary escape from whatever is going on in my life currently.

Late in 2015, after I had finished my first marathon, I put running aside for a bit.  Number one, I was TIRED.  Number two, I was tired of being a slave to my training schedule, long runs and a constant hunger that lingered for the entire 5 month training cycle.  I had all this free time, which of course was filled up with anxiety, worry, and a general feeling of being a waste of space.  I realized how important running was to me in terms of my mental health in addition to my physical well-being.  After all, those ten post marathon pounds didn't gain themselves, and my anxiety didn't just magically reappear in October for no reason.

Which leads me here.  I know, New Years resolutions are stupid.  I'm not sure why I actually listed to my best friend when she said to blog  But I have to admit, there's something therapeutic about getting thoughts out of your head and onto some other medium.  Even just this right here has made the spiky orange elephant in my chest (aka my anxiety) get a little smaller and less spiky.

I'm not making a New Years resolution to become a blogger, or even a resolution to blog.  I am going to make a commitment to myself to see blogging as a possible outlet for my anxiety and to write about the things I do to combat the spiky orange elephant  - mainly running, reading, and crocheting, and any other anxiety busters along the way.  

Its kind of interesting to know that no one is reading this, but it somehow makes me feel better that someone conceivably could read it and understand.