I Keep Moving

I Keep Moving. 

The deep blue aura surrounding me quickly gives way to an assortment of warming colors. A peaceful ambiance, tall wavering pines, and a coarse pebbled surface form a vibrant path inviting me on a journey. In front of me reveals patterns of dark and light designed by nature’s illuminating heat source, both fueling and dehydrating this vessel I’ve become. I am moving forward into the depths of the unknown with excitement. 

A short time passes and I’m burning inside. Losing focus. Every inch of my body quivering. My mind begging. My tunneled vision is now a fog distracting my eyes from what is beyond. I keep moving. I see nothing but defined arms swaying back and forth, sweat dripping from each clenched fist. As my gaze lowers I see nothing but one toned leg at a time obstructing small portions of my path. The fluorescent glimmer from my footwear guiding me pound for pound against each rubber sole on untouched land. I keep moving. My stride becomes faster as the white cloud impairs my vision while clearing the consistent perspiration from my brow. My ears work strenuously as they become the dominant source of navigation. Left relying on the sounds of nature and the tempo I’m creating, my breath blows heavy. The more I push, the harder it becomes to decipher sounds of what I’m creating, and what I’m feeling from the thumping of my chest. I keep moving. My perception of time does not exist in what I realize to be white noise in my thoughts. What I can not see outside has been replaced with internal questioning of whether I turn back or know this fog will pass. I begin to lose any sense of where I am and why I am. The warmth of the fog I embrace, as motivation turns into piercing snowballs to be dodged. Where am I now? My pace slows. I can not see. I can not breathe. I can not do this. I hear footsteps alongside me that don’t seem to fade. I’m scared of the emotions arising, but I keep moving. I take a deep breath and then another. My pace becomes steady. I breathe throughout my body. I can. I can move. I can push through and side-step whatever is thrown at me. I can lose whatever is chasing me. I will reach the destination I have yet to create, but I know it exists. The world around me is not kind but it can be. I keep moving, I continue breathing, and I break through. The only sounds I hear are my own. 

My eyes open wide to see a split in the path. The forecast in my vision shows one dim side from the overpowering fog as it lingers. The other is illuminated by a glowing orb above urging me to follow. I keep moving but I change course and don’t know where it leads. I’m at a good steady pace when I hear more footsteps that aren’t my own. I look behind me, to each side, and back again. I see nothing. I keep moving. I hear footsteps approaching quickly behind me, so I turn and see no one. I move faster as if someone unwelcome on my journey is following me. I breathe in deeply and now I can’t stop. I can’t quit. I won’t let anything push me off of this path. I hear nothing but the silent hum of nature for quite some distance. My body is lively through earth’s energy guiding me, while my thoughts are asleep. Until they’re not. Who belongs to the sounds of those footsteps and why do they keep stopping. 

The more I question what has happened, the more I can’t see what’s surrounding me. I’m scared again or I’m not sure. I’ve been alone in the woods for some time now. How far have I come and do I have the strength to get back to where I started. Where will this take me. I’ve become aware that my thoughts are running faster than my feet until I remember to breathe. I breathe the cool night air in as I watch my arms swing back and forth. My fists eased with every motion. The pounding on the soles of my feet have been replaced with the energy floating through my inner soul as a cushion for all of my past ailments. I keep moving in the right direction no longer questioning the path I’m on. My vision is tunneled once again but without a light at the end. I don’t think about it. I move towards the unknown without a worry of darkness, fog, or footsteps behind me. I’ll be ok if I allow myself to be. I keep moving, but I slow down not because of pain or worry, but to look around at what I’ve never seen before. I have never thought to turn from the path I have always moved on, until now. I realize how I’ve never made it so far to see a different way. Instead of asking myself why that is I keep moving forward until a light turns on in the distance and I sprint to it.

I open my eyes as the treadmill comes to a stop. I’m in my own basement. 

“What the hell were you doing down there in the dark?” yells a man. “I’m starving and the kids haven’t eaten yet” 

“Mom, we are hungry” yells two children. 

I respond. “I’ll be up in a second.”  

A towel hangs from a nail on the wall as I grab for it and wipe down my machine. I throw the towel on a bin of overflowing laundry as I watch the flab of my arm settle back into place. My gaze lowers as a gray worndown shoe hits the pavement with force. I stumble. My legs look and feel like a jello mold that has been dropped on the floor. Sweat fills the crevices of my bellybutton and other undesirable areas. The thought of cooking has me nauseous. I sit on an upside-down storage bin that begins bending at its seams. I cry. I cry for some time and I know what’s coming. 

“If you’re doing laundry I have a few more things to toss in” yells the man. 

I look at my open palms filled with sadness and wipe them on my sweatpants. I stand up and breathe. I breathe again deeper allowing it to flow throughout my body. 

“I’ll be right up,” I say. 

I reach for the small dimming lamp beside the treadmill and turn it off. On my way to the stairs, I pass by a small whiteboard calendar, grab the marker, and mark the time for the fifth day this week. It’s more than each day before. I wipe my eyes on the rolled-up cotton sleeve of my shirt and try to feel proud. I close the dusty basement window as I approach the stairs. Each step up I can’t decipher whether it’s me or the crooked wood making noise. My joints feel like they have small knives being pushed through with every movement. I feel gross, but I keep moving. I lost track of time. This is not me and I hope I haven’t been keeping them too long. I am upstairs standing in the kitchen. My husband turns the corner from the living room. 

“Why are you all sweaty?” he laughs. 

I cry. His mood shifts as he hugs me and kisses my forehead. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’ve been trying to get it together when you and the kids are gone, but I’m not sure I can.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I started this week, and I don’t know how long I can keep it up. I feel overwhelmed and have been losing track of time. I don’t want you and the kids to be mad at me.” 

He kisses my forehead again. 

“Go take a shower. I’ll take care of dinner.” 

He wipes my tears. 

“Wow” I mutter. “I did not think that would be your response.”

“Well, that was my response. I’m proud of you. My mistake for not asking sooner. I support this, but I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

I listen intently wanting to believe everything will be ok. 

“Maybe I’ll even join you!” he exclaims. 

I quietly laugh and feel my heart pounding in a way I haven’t felt for a long time. 

“Now go wash up, beautiful. I’ll have dinner ready when you’re done. Might not be as good as yours but I’ll give it a shot, and then again tomorrow.” 

A smile creeps from the depths of my flushed cheeks as I make my way to the shower. I turn the shower on high and let it warm. I move aside towels on the back of the door hanging over a full-length mirror. I strip down and begin to stretch. The bathroom is quickly engulfed by a white fog. I see nothing but my flabby arms turn to muscle. My gaze lowers to see my legs shrink and show definition. I move forward and wipe the fog away from the mirror. I see myself transforming into someone I haven’t seen since my twenties. I know it will take time. I know I can do it. I can. I can create a life that I want and I do have the support I didn’t care to welcome before. It’s up to me to move forward and surpass myself each day. No one else can. I step into the shower, run my hands through my hair, and close my eyes as water drips down my body. What if I never change. What if I fail. What will they think of me. What’s wrong with me. What if I do get it together. I will. I have to move forward. I will stop running away from myself every day as long as I keep moving.