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I've taken to running. I'm not a sporty girl, and to exert effort towards something that makes my face look like a tomato and leaves me feeling like a hot mess (literally) is unusual. I feel like God, and life, have been telling me "no" on a frequent basis. No, this person isn't right for you. No, you can't have this job. No, you can't stay at the job you love. No, you can't take that vacation with your friends. No, life isn't easy. No, you can't have whatever you want.
There are tears bottled up inside of me that don't make their presence known because I can't afford to take the time to mourn, grieve and then recover. I must be strong, patient, and brave. So since I have to stay composed and proper, I try to run away from my problems. Whenever I find the time, I throw on some relatively clean clothes, tennis shoes and walk out the door. Putting effort into actually running tricks me into thinking I forgot about the daily hurdles. It's not like the times at night where I lay awake by myself and worry. It gives distraction. After I return home and my heartbeat slows to normal, it all comes rushing back. The person I'm not friends with anymore, what I'm supposed to be doing after graduation, the frustration at wanting to become a productive member of society but not being wanted, the guy I broke up with, the guy who seems perfect, the trials and tribulations of daily life. I can't keep running away forever. I'm going to have to gird myself and prepare for the battle.
The only thing I'm battling is myself. I need to truly become that strong, brave, patient woman. Because big girls don't cry.