No idea what I thought I was going to write about today. I was distracted by a pizza party for a coworker’s last day, and now I am painfully full and not really inclined to think about writing.
Plus, I have work to do.
So here’s another quote from a book that I enjoyed, instead.
“Rima had tried jogging after Oliver died. She thought it would be smart to get physically exhausted. She thought if she were body-tired instead of, or along with, feeling the heavy exhaustion of grief, she might think less. But the effort involved in lifting her feet over and over was too much for her. Later she tried again, but found she’d been mistaken in her primary assumption. All you did when you ran was think. She hated it.”
Now, I definitely have not tried running as a way of dealing with the exhaustion of grief. I can barely walk some days, I feel like, so while I was once a distance runner as a kid, I don’t think now would be a very good time to pick it up again. I’m more likely to wreck myself before I can tire myself out, really.
I have found that physical pain often helps detract from emotional pain, but it’s insanely temporary. Like, getting my first tattoo hurt far less than losing Alysia. Most of it even hurt less than saying goodbye to Hudson. But the physical pain subsided, whereas the emotional pain still remains.
I have been known to attempt to tire myself out in order to not think and feel so much, though. It doesn’t really work for me, even when I push my body further than it wants to go. It’s a distraction, for sure. But the effects don’t last.
I like that this book recognized the different kinds of tired a person can be. I haven’t often seen that distinction, in books, film, television or everyday conversation. I like how true it rang for me.