Hi! I am Natalie, a 26 year old in Iowa who ran first as a convenient way to exercise and be outside more. I just decided to sign up for a half marathon one day. Not only did I end up running much farther than I ever thought I could, I also became stronger and happier along the way.
Running then became crucial for me through my mental health journey. I knew as my body has been resilient, my mind and soul could be too. And maybe even through significant depression and post-traumatic stress, I could be strong and happy again one day.
Dam to DSM Half Marathon 2024
I decided to dedicate this half marathon to my mental health journey. I broke down the course to commemorate my past for miles 1-9, my present for miles 10-12, and my future for mile 13. Here is my story:
My Past
Mile 1: The pressures of a “good Christian girl”
I grew up going to church every week with my family, listening to the sermons, memorizing my bible verses, and going to youth groups. I thought it was important too, as I didn’t want to go to hell.
Looking back as an adult I wish I could take away the high expectations that girl carried for herself to be “good.” I had so much fear in me to not be angry with my parents, to not draw too much attention to myself, or to not say anything bad about anyone. I thought I always had to do the right thing.
Mile 2: The expectations of a “star student”
I was the annoying classmate who knew every question and got 100% on most of the tests. I was also very involved in school activities. I was a sibling that had it all together and was going to succeed. So I made sure to study, made sure I knew everything, made sure to sign up for everything. That was what was important I thought, to do a lot of things and do them well. I wish I could tell that kid that her worth did not depend on what she could do but who she was.
Mile 3: The lonely passenger
I grew up in a small town so there was a lot of time spent in the car with one of my parents driving me somewhere, usually my mom. On our 30-minute drives to the mall, she would maybe ask me a single question about how I was doing. I just don’t remember. I don’t remember sharing any of my fears, my worries, my joys, or my dreams. I didn’t have anyone who asked me about those, so I thought it was normal. I didn’t know my inner soul was crying out to be known by someone.
Mile 4: The bike incident
I have a distinct memory showcasing the lack of emotional regulation I had modeled to me as a child. I was playing with a friend at my house after biking around. We had left out one of our other friends whose mom noticed and came over to stand up for her daughter. Well, my mom answered the door and told us to hide and put our bikes away and tried to deny the whole thing. The friend’s mom didn’t buy it and eventually had me come over to their house and apologize. However, what I remember most was how uncomfortable and mad it made my mom. It made me terrified to do something to upset her like that again.
Mile 5: The family meeting
One of my siblings started to break out with symptoms of a mental illness while I was in middle school. I was never told exactly the things they were doing but overheard one of the police officers in town had to get involved and arrest them for something. We had a family meeting with a pastor that was mainly just my sibling yelling at my parents for ruining their life. And the pastor just tried to lead us all in a prayer to help us through it. It was so unhelpful as no one was there to explain to me what was happening or offer anything to address my sibling’s changes in behavior. They were “acting out,” so we prayed.
Mile 6: Knocking on the door
One of my other siblings broke out with an autoimmune disorder when we started college. They really withdrew. I have a memory of me knocking on their door for minutes with no reply, knowing they were inside. I didn’t know what else to do. I wrote a letter instead and slid it under the door. I couldn’t blame them. We didn’t know how to talk about difficult, painful things.
Mile 7: Endless studies
As a medical student, I spent all my time during COVID studying. Hours and hours on end until I forgot why I was doing it at all. And it took all of my time, doing something I didn’t even like. My soul was rotting away. The world was too overwhelming of a place to do anything that really made a difference anyway. How could my flashcards on the urea cycle matter, especially during a world pandemic when it seemed there were no real answers to anything anyway.
Mile 8: A tombstone
As a part of my professional journey, I thought I wanted to be a medical missionary, which led me to do shadow a physician in the middle east in a women’s hospital for a month. I saw babies die. I saw a lot live too, but of course the happier moments aren’t what stick with you as vividly. Even on my medical rotation back in the states, I couldn’t escape the tragedy. I witnessed another life lost right before my eyes in a hospital, someone’s father. “The courage to witness death is the job” I heard once from a TV show. I would trade that courage away for those babies to live.
Mile 9: Emptiness
The year 2022 is a black hole in my memory. Depression, it was a lot of emptiness for me. I was beaten down too much. My soul had nothing left. I couldn’t even cry. What felt the best was to just lie on the ground. Adrift and lost, not really connected to anything. Like an astronaut floating driftlessly in outer space.
My Present
Mile 10: Therapy
Sitting across from someone who really listened to me, asked me my deeper thoughts and feelings, has been the most healing experience for me. Counseling has been the source that has finally let my soul crawl out of its dark abyss and be known by someone else, and more importantly myself.
I found Accelerated Resolution Therapy especially helpful, as it allowed me to picture my younger self and engage with her more kindly, with unconditional positive regard – the mindset that she was just doing the best with what she had. I can now live a life with deep connection to myself, able to fully experience all my emotions without shame or judgement. My sadness isn’t wrong or bad, or worse a sin, but it is my soul trying to communicate something to me. So now I listen, I cry, I yell even. My soul has a lot to express.
Mile 11: Attention
Finding friends who give me attention has been so supportive. I’m talking about a friend I can sit across from and share something with them, and they simply look my in the eyes when I am done waiting for me to continue talking about it. When this first happened I got so uncomfortable, because I didn’t think that many people really cared about what I said because the topic was often changed after I talked growing up. Something awakened in me when this kept happening. My voice. I grew up as a shy, quiet girl. But now I’m wondering maybe I do have things to say. After all, there are people wanting to give me the attention to just talk.
Mile 12: Sunrise
Looking at the sunrise has always been a symbol of hope for me, as it never failed to come every single day after the darkness of the night. That meant that some break in my darkness had to come and I would feel warmth again. It happened very suddenly. Throughout my depression I had been tying to connect with new people and one day was surprised by a date that went well. I remember him giving me all his attention and making me truly laugh. I didn’t know the last time I had felt that carefree. The world can be a fun place after all where there is meaningful connection and silly laughs.
My Future
Mile 13: The woman across the bridge
As a part of my Accelerated Resolution Therapy sessions, my counselor would lead me to picture a future version of myself who was thriving. She would have me think about crossing a bridge and meeting her on the other side. I think she is someone who has rich connections, time to enjoy the beach, and curiosity about the great diversity of the world. In the sessions I picture her meeting me and telling me, “you are so loved, my dear.”
So I hold on to that knowledge, knowing I am loved, to keep going. Keep running. My depression and PTSD often still feel so heavy, but I know I will continue to grow, discover myself, heal my past wounds, and find strength and happiness.
