Last year, in the midst of starting this blog, I began walking late at night. It was a good way to get out of the house, clear my head, and organize my thoughts before sitting down to write during the wee hours of the morning. At some point I began jogging, running, something I hadn’t done in forever because of a hip that’s historically given me a lot of grief. I had to start slow, but eventually worked myself up to eight miles. And whereas my hip never fell in love with running, it did tolerate it, especially if I took time to stretch my legs and didn’t pound the pavement every day.

When my immune system went haywire last October, my night-time strolls and midnight marathons took a long vacation. There was just no way. Even if I’d felt like a million bucks, I’m not sure I would have left the house, since it was winter and cold outside, and I hate winter and cold outside. All this to say that despite my aversion to pollen and even though spring is literally in the air right now, last night I went for a jog–one mile. Let’s just see how our body responds, I thought. Well, the jog went great–but get this shit. As I was jogging, it was like my body was remembering every walk or run I’ve ever been on. I took a route I used a lot last year, and all these memories came back of specific podcasts I was listening to along those streets, of particular thoughts and emotions I was sorting out before blogging about them.

That’s weird, right?–the way your memories get tied to distinct locations or activities and can come flooding back at a moment’s notice? It’s like the past and the present get totally mixed up in your head.

Today I saw my therapist, and we talked about money. Y’all, I hate talking about money. First of all, no one ever taught me how. Second of all, growing up, most of my experiences with money were negative. Like, we never had enough of it, or what we did have (in the form of possessions) was taken away (in a house fire), stolen, or repossessed. This is why I write so much about abundance–it’s something I want to believe in, but haven’t always had a lot of proof of. So today when my therapist and I were talking about a couple business situations like the insurance claim regarding my car accident last year, I practically broke into a cold sweat. “You’re all twitchy,” she said. “Yeah,” I replied, “because I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle myself.”

“Then it’s my job to support you emotionally until you do feel like you can handle yourself,” she said.

Since leaving therapy this afternoon, I’ve continued to be a nervous wreck. It’s a little better now because I went for another run earlier–two miles–and that helped burn up some energy. But even as I’m propped up in my childhood bed, I can remember where I was sitting when I was handed the family checkbook as a teenager, how I felt completely inadequate to do what was being asked of me. I can remember exactly where I was sitting at the bank the afternoon I met with our loan officer and told him we could no longer afford our mortgage payments as long as Dad was in prison. I was sixteen. On one side of the desk was this confident man in a suit and tie, three times my age, and on the other side was overwhelmed me in a pair of jeans and maybe a collared shirt, crying, embarrassed. And even though twenty years have elapsed between then and now, when it comes to money, I guess a large part of me still feels like that little kid–all twitchy. It’s like the past and the present are totally mixed up in my head.

Now it’s three in the morning, and I don’t know how I’m going to sort this one out. I guess I don’t have to tonight, but I do want to–get it sorted out–at some point. I simply can’t keep living on this side of the desk, practically paralyzed by the world of business, by–the world. And yet, how do you fix a problem that’s twenty-years old? How do you learn to walk again, let alone run when your legs are trembling with fear? Honestly, I don’t know. But perhaps you start by recognizing that despite your past and your trembling legs, you’re still standing. Perhaps you start by realizing that life even in its most intimidating moment wasn’t able to completely knock you down. Because surely that fact alone would mean that you are strong, much more capable of handling yourself than you were previously giving yourself credit for.