Well, sort of.
I actually don’t know where to begin here. This from a girl who is not usually at a loss for words. For those who know me well- jaws up off the table now please. Thank you.
There are very few things in our lives over which we have total and complete control. It’s an unfortunate by-product of being human. But I’ve alway been a firm believer that, no matter a person’s beginnings, every person can achieve greatness on their own individual terms whatever those terms may be. That may seem presumptuous given that not every person is dealt an ideal hand. And on my worst days I start to pedal backwards and I start to think I might just be wrong. Some people might just have no options. This is when I pull from storage some of my favorite inspirations. Helen Keller, Stevie Wonder, and this armless woman.
Oh yeah, there’s that. And my ‘woe is me‘ is shattered. Normally, that’s enough to get me back up and kicking. Except that there are those things that I can’t change. No matter how hard I work or how much time I put in. And maybe not even if I drain my bank account trying to turn ‘no‘ into ‘yes‘.
Now, here is the part where I feel just a little like a crappy person. Because I have a baby. This, I know, is more than many others can say. So in some way it feels selfish of me to be so frustrated with the ‘no‘ I keep getting. I want to tell myself to relax, to be patient, to be thankful for what I already have. But to relax is not my way. My way of handling rejection has never been to accept it and move on. My way has been to handle it to the ground the way Chuck handled Tito in UFC 66. I’m a fighter.
Every fighter has to retire sometime. A small voice whispers to me. A nudge of discouragement daring me to get back up so it can know me down again. Fear creeps up my spine with what ifs and maybe nots. What if one is all there is? What if there are not any more?
Only I won’t stay down. What I know, now, is that acceptance doesn’t mean I am weak. It doesn’t make me less of a fighter. It just means that I will work with what I have. Stevie won’t have his eyes and the armless woman won’t have her arms. I may or may not have another baby left in in me. But I will stand. Sometimes that might require the assistance of a crutch or two. It might require the caring words of a good friend. It might require a shoulder to cry on. It might require a hand to hold.
Jennifer, aka Paramomal