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Achilles Heel

Sometimes I get the feeling I say all the same things in these blog posts.  Other times, I go back and read them and realize, yes I am repeating myself.

That's me shrugging. I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam.

I have spent a number of the last few weeks working on a paper selling myself. (When I say weeks I mean 6 drafts.  No, I am not kidding.) I hesitate to say I am applying to Graduate School because what if they don't let me in and you all find out what a secret loser I am? If I don't get in, it won't be because I am a loser, it will be because I somehow managed to not pass Statistics. So wish me luck. We're all human after all. And we all have our Achilles Heel. Numbers happen to me mine.

Speaking of Achilles Heels. Every single one of us has a cross to bear. Sometimes they are obvious and sometimes they are not readily detectable. It isn't about the fact that we have them, for we all do. What I want to hear about is how you accept it and move on. Sometimes we have to take our lumps and they are bitter and painful and excruciating. When I say accept it and move on, it sounds easy enough. Tie your shoe. But how do we accept things that are unacceptable? How then do we move on if something is unacceptable?

For me when I am dealing with any given Achilles heel, I talk a lot with those who has compassion and hopefully has some experience with the given issue. Then I sometimes lock myself in my bedroom and sob where no one can see me because I don't really want anyone to know I get that emotional. Ha. Other times I write about it. Sometimes I make soup with my niece.  Or she and I bake.  My little man and I plant flowers, we go to the park.  Some people I talk to tell me to do the next right thing.  I find that to be helpful, too.

This particular Achilles hell, I mean, heel- has been tricky for me.  It's life changing but it isn't the end of the world.  If anything, it has given me the opportunity to be intensely grateful for all the gifts in my life, amid the sobbing.  I had all kinds of plans when I was a kid.  And as a younger adult.  As we get older, we start seeing limitations on the things we can do. That's where this particular heel fits. Into accepting the things I can't change. And let me tell you, I don't like it.

Sometimes the best thing to do when you know the truth is to breathe deeply into the sore spot, cry when the tears come and keep moving. Because when you know you know, even if it hurts.

So here's to what I had planned, what I didn't have planned and to the life I will have whether I plan it or not.

One Comment

  1. Sue Lindley August 8, 2011

    My mentor reminds me that the tears are not the pain, the tears are the healing. You seem to know this and allow them as part of your process. I see you as a very wise young woman who foremost seeks understanding of oneself and includes all the support and counsel she can stand. You are amazing. Life hurts, you cry, and then you make the best of it.

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