The moveable (and the not-so-much) mountains.
It’s been a few days, but pushing myself through the dreaded 11-miler of doom has done wondersof ro my motivation and my personal investment in running.
So here’s an epiphany. If I can take myself from the absolute lowest morass of ill-motivation and funk, and push out not just the longest run I’ve ever done in my life, but actually beat my intended mileage by .56 miles, then why do I doubt myself? What was the worst end I could have come to on my intended run? I run out of steam and walk home? I call Ben or a friend and get a ride? I lose nothing, gain however long I made the run, and can still try again next time.
Staring up from the foot of a mountain is no excuse for not doing my best to climb it, one step at a time. I never thought I’d run more than 5 miles in my life, if you asked me a year ago, I’d have told you the very idea was ridiculous. And yet here I am, 11.56 miles down, then another 3.8 miles down; I’m not as thin or as fast as I thought I’d be by now, but hey, I chose to prioritize athletic ability over my weight or appearance, and I’m still not doing so shabby.
Mountains come in all shapes and sizes, and today a new one cropped into view that I never saw coming. Sami told me she thought it was her fault that Alex died, because of the time Sami jumped onto Alex out of a chair.
I didn’t laugh at her. She didn’t seem to think it was funny, although she also didn’t seem to feel terrible about what she’d just said.
“It was scary when you landed on her belly, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said. “And then her bum was broken, and she went to the doctor.”
We’d been avoiding telling her that Alex was “sick” or that she’d gone “to the doctor” because we didn’t want to create any exaggerated impressions of what those things mean. When Alex died, we told Sami that Alex’s body got broken and no one could make her better. We didn’t even use euphemisms for the death part, we’d just said, “She died, and we can’t see her any more.”
“But you didn’t make Alex broken. We were scared, but everyone was ok.” Shit. I don’t know why she would have linked the jumping incident with Alex’s death – those were months apart. I really didn’t know what to say. I settled for reiterating that her jumping on Alex had nothing to do with what made Alex die.
Sami seemed satisfied, if not convinced. She’s remembering way more than I would have expected her to, and that alone is fine. She doesn’t seem sad or concerned about the connections she’s making, so that, also, is fine for now. I just didn’t expect her to make connections between memories that were unrelated, and I never, never expected her to somehow assume responsibility for Alex dying.
If I could run 11 miles and make this sinking feeling go away, I absolutely would. Haha, 11 miles in the face of tangible desire NOT to run it proves that I can do pretty much anything if it’s up to me. I can’t change the way my kid thinks and feels, though. And that, to say the least, is a bummer.
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You may not be able to change how Sami thinks and feels, but as her mother you have a powerful influence. And just the fact that she is conscientious and aware of such things is as impressive and as it is sad. You never cease to amaze me in both your running and mothering–kudos to you in the face of such challenges.
I was convinced I had killed my great grandmother because I had hidden behind my mother when we went to visit the nursing home, and then, months and months later, she died. I was maybe three, four years old. For years afterward, I obsessed over my guilt, imagining the visit had gone differently, inventing elaborate rescue scenarios in which I saved her life. I didn’t tell my mother about any of this until I was in my teens, and had realized it wasn’t my fault.
I’m glad Sami talked to you about it and got straightened out now. Kids are weird in what they absorb and how they understand it.
Uccellina´s last blog ..Wren’s Video Pick of the Week
Hiya, I too am glad to hear that Sami let you know about this. I have enjoyed reading about your and her adventures. “Magical Thinking” placing blame for events on themselves is very common in young children. Here’s a link if you want to read some more…it deals more with the death of people, but the concept is applicable. http://www.jamesline.com/viewer/Pages/index.aspx?P=413
Wow, dear friend, wow. You dealt with it with major aplomb. We can’t control what little ones remember, but at times, I do remember things. It’s strange what is remembered, and what is forgotten.
Amazing stuff, and yet again, I am impressed.
With many things about you and your life.
Love
me
noelle´s last blog ..The Week that Was
I keep telling you that is one wicked smart kid you’ve got there, and this is just another piece of evidence. Most two-and-a-halfers aren’t making these kinds of connections, just as they aren’t speaking as articulately or arguing as logically as Miss Sami. And as your friends have said, you handled this situation with grace and wonderful mothering.
I can remember my own preoccupation with death verbally manifesting around age 3 or 4, when I would wander into my parents’ room every couple of nights just to let my mother I was afraid of dying — both for myself and for my parents. Mama says this went on for a few years, but, with the pediatrician’s reassurance, she continued to deal with it calmly and gently. Without lies, or false promises, but in loving, careful, age-appropriate terms.
Just so you know, every time I see you with Sami or read about your interactions with her in your blog, I smile at how lucky you two are to have one another and I only hope I’ll be as fortunate in my own life.
— mel