You risk everything when you take a chance … and when you DON’T.
I’ve ridden some wacky waves this year — wait, haven’t we all?!?! — not realizing that a perfect storm had been aligning itself … waiting on ME to step atop a new surfboard to navigate those unpredictable water surges. My old boogie board had more cracks that I realized.
Where did it start? Simple, complex conversations. New, old connections. Breakdowns at the small kitchen table we added last fall, where Roger and I have dined together more often in the last year than the sum of years before. How he offered anything in the universe to help me feel better. THAT is true love …
Breakdowns when my son Gordo came to mooch, I mean, enjoy a home cooked meal alone with mom, and how he’d reach across the table to take my hand in comfort … or get up from his favorite food to hug me. Now, THAT is true love …
Breakdowns with a dear friend I hadn’t seen in eons, yet we got reconnected this year in person. Breakdowns with a dear friend when admitting I didn’t have the physical stamina for certain activities. Breakdowns when I broke down, unable to complete projects. Breakdowns when I knew I’d have a breakdown if I saw or talked to most anyone.
To break this down … sorry, had to run with that pun … and rhyme this time … ???
It’s a bitch to live with depression and anxiety. I’ve written about the endless crashes and burns … because I’m supposed to keep ramming those barriers with my words … to give others the courage to finally acknowledge that while those walls do exist, that they do not need to imprison every breath you take.
God gave us hope … even if we can’t find it buried under fall’s dying foliage, winter’s snow drifts, spring’s congestion of nature and summer’s weeds that need wacking. There’s always an obstacle. There’s always pen and paper to create a new path around or through it … until God determines our time to go “home.”
My long-time doctor retired this spring and after several false starts with others, a friend referred me to hers. Love the guy and decided to take a risk. Started a new med just over a week ago, and now I’m plowing through the debris of my life with a sharpened shovel. Roger stares at me often, “OK, who are you and what did you do with my wife?!?!?”
Too many of us turn down shiny new shovels because we’re too comfortable with the rusty one, and knowns are less scary than unknowns … even at Halloween.
When I have to shovel shit, I’ll use the best tool I can find … because I’m worth it to be the best tool I can be …
And I’ll search anywhere to find it. How about you?