FixedonHope

against all hope, believe.

Tag: health

Shattered.

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Splat. Contact is made, glass shatters, contents spill over onto freshly mopped floors. One compounding frustration after another and this is the icing on the cake. Boom. Full gallon-sized jar of sauerkraut freshly opened, one month fermenting and hours spent preparing, out of my hands and onto the floor; an incredible mess of a situation right at my feet. Already on edge from a thousand little annoyances that shouldn’t elicit reaction and I feel the energy rise within me; that demon I’ve long stifled gritting its teeth and ready to surface at any moment, a bubbling caldron waiting to erupt. But no, not yet. I’ve conquered you, you ugly fiend called anger. I’ve better ways to deal with this string of irritations. Continue reading

Strong enough to be weak.

strength

noun \ˈstreŋ(k)th, ˈstren(t)th\

Simple Definition of strength

  • : the quality or state of being physically strong

  • : the ability to resist being moved or broken by a force

  • : the quality that allows someone to deal with problems in a determined and effective way

Strength. For as long as I can remember I have valued this trait and strived to possess its attributes. Before I fully knew what this word meant, I instinctively knew that it was an inherent part of my character. Passed down from a first generation immigrant father, strength was something that was held in high esteem in my household and upbringing. It was the standard that all of my performances and struggles were held against.  The question of whether we were giving our best, fighting with our all, was always subconsciously posed beneath the surface of what was actually spoken. And sometimes, it was spoken.

“You have to be strong.”

“Don’t give up.”

“Anything worth fighting for is going to be a struggle.”

“Don’t be a quitter.”

“Life is hard, but you just have to keep at it.”

And though there were and are many truths to these statements, it dawned on me as of recent that there is  such a thing as an appropriate time to let go of the fighting and the struggle and just surrender; to find acceptance and peace with what is, and still contend for a better life. Can the two even coexist? Contention and acceptance? I believe so. And I’m finding that the less I struggle against what I can’t control or can’t overtake, the more ground I actually win.

Continue reading

Christmas hope.

Eyes blinking, lights twinkling, wicks burning. In the background, instrumental Christmas music plays softly, lending to the air of nostalgia in the steamy room. I soak and sink deeper into the steaming tub, sink deeper into my decade hopping reverie as I revert back to the mind of a little girl. Of a little girl who was caught up in the magic of Christmas as she lay beneath the tree gazing up into the million tiny lights and glimmering ornaments, wedged between presents, and surrounded by the train set circling round and round, entrancing me all the more into my sugarplum visions.

In this candlelit room I am almost back there, almost back to that time when only the best was possible. Where the future seemed as bright as the neighborhood collection of lights and holiday display. Almost transported back to a season where magic and dreams were more of my reality than bills and debt and failure and sickness. Back to a time where I would never have dreamt the future would turn out any differently than what that Christmas hope eluded to. Continue reading

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