My Pre-Marathon Jitters

It is 5:30 a.m., and I just dropped off T. at the start of the Rock and Roll Marathon. Today is his first race; he is running "the half."

This morning over coffee, T. admitted to being like "Whirl of Swing"--my nickname-- meaning that he was nervous despite having any real cause, as he has run "the half" on his own many times before.

For my part, although I'm not running anywhere, I do have the jitters. See, it is my job to pick T. up. In order to complete this task, I have to get from point A (home) to point B (the finish line), which involves a battery of my phobias, including but not limited to the following:

1) sharing the road with thousands of people (crashophobia)
2) parking in a lot crowded with cars (lameparkingjobphobia)
3) figuring out a machine to get a trolley ticket (machinelamenessphobia)
4) making it to the right stop (Carlsbadophobia)

Seeing this laundry list on paper, a bit of anxiety may seem "normal," but I assure you that the level of my anxiety is not. It is intense and painful, a manifestation of illness.

But why? What is the deal?

I've determined that the difference on a psychological level between my "phobias" and other "healthy" people is that healthy people cut themselves and the world some slack. I know that every human being in the world does not like to drive in traffic, or have to squeeze into crowded parking lots, or to figure out how to buy a ticket. What do they do to cope? They breathe. They take their time. They don't think the world is going to end if they don't do something perfectly the first time around. In short, they expect themselves and others to behave like humans.

I don't know the precise moment when I decided that it wasn't OK to behave like a human. I think it has something to do with trying to control the bipolar disorder by being a perfect person. Somewhere along the line, I stopped letting myself breathe, stopped letting myself be an amateur, and stopped having fun with the little things. Not only did I stop enjoying little things, but then unpleasant things became magnified into obstacles. They became magnified into burdens.

So, today is T.'s first race, but in fact, it's a race for me, too. Not a race against the clock, but an opportunity to see if I can jump through a few logistical hoops, not only without incident, but with a sense of accomplishment.

Let's Rock n' Roll!