In It To Win It

Rilski Manastir

Type.

i am grateful for the werewithal to keep myself fed, get my hair washed, get my brain unknotted, and the fan running.  I’m grateful to be, at this moment, in more or less one piece.  I’m grateful that I am in as good a shape, as sound o mind, as hale o’heart as I am.  I am grateful for the regular recognition that it could always be so very damn much worse.

I am grateful for feedback.  I am grateful for failure.  For being willing to fail.  For being willing to make effort towards failure knowing that somehow, that effort, those failures, they’ll add up so I know every last inch of what not to do and then, I won’t have to do that anymore.   For moving off of posts, for falling even if it’s only onto another platform, another choice.  To be willing to cede that much control to the fates, to the whims of the universe.  As the therapist says, you’ll change, when it hurts enough.  I’m grateful that I’m not trying to outthink or outsmart the hurt, but to make myself the ribbon it has to break through to win the race.  It wants to keep going, it’s gotta get through me.  And when it does, we both get somewhere new.

I am grateful for flexibility.   To leave work when I need to, to move things around, to not crumble because one idea or another I let percolate in my brain didn’t pan out.  To see what I’ve written and not see it as this recipe I have to follow.  I am grateful I am willing to put the gloves on and handle the fact that it didn’t come out gleaming, silken, ready for publishing.  I just need it to come out.

I am grateful for the burdens others are willing to take on to make my life better or easier or to correct wrongs.

I am grateful for being willing to face frightful things, things that indicate I’m doing shit wrong in a big way.  Or at least, perhaps, 1% more willing than I ever was before.  There is an easing of this terror towards life attacking me.  I’m not seeing the malevolence of just getting by, of surviving the hand you were dealt.

I am grateful for a father who is willing to come over three or more days in a row, cut planks and lay down flooring and help us make this place a little bit less of a hovel.

I am grateful that I was able to say, at the very least, well, I get how it is, and I didn’t make it this way, you made it this way and that’s…life.  And so, I’m not wounded, or in pain, I’m just grappling with the terms we’re giving one another.  Terms that essentially diminish and distort the idea of each other.  I’m grateful that this is an end I can be proud of, more or less, though, because I stayed this time. I stayed.

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