I NEED THE STRUGGLE TO FEEL ALIVE
LJ Idol, week 1
I need the struggle to feel alive
It used to be my mantra, the thing I told my friends over and over again. I told strangers and family the same. I like the struggle. I like challenges. Challenges are fun. Struggle and challenge make me stronger, make me feel good about myself. So there’s a financial struggle, so there’s a relationship struggle, well, I can get through it. Yeah, that’s what I always said. And I did get through it all, patting myself on the back for my strength and sheer stubbornness. Aren’t I something? I even used to tell trainers at the school where I went to get a guide dog, that I liked a dog that would give me a bit of a challenge. I mean, who wants a guide dog that just does everything you tell them to do without ever deciding to do something different?
But life has a way of calling us on our bullshit. And I strongly believe God has a sense of humor. And sometimes, a struggle comes along that is too much, or a heartache happens that sheer stubbornness and determination cannot overcome. When that happened to me, everything changed, and I knew I did not want the struggle anymore.
My dad died at age fifty-seven, February 12, 1997. He was eighteen when I was born, so he was a young man still. We watched him struggle with cancer for two years, before his body finally gave up the fight. His death knocked the hell out of me, and some twenty years later, a part of me still grieves, still is angry and still wonders why. His death also ended my mad love of and joy in the struggle and challenge. From that day onward, I wanted things to be easy and smooth. There are just some challenges too big to carry around, too painful to revel in surviving.
It isn’t to say that life has been smooth sailing. It hasn’t. Since then I moved a few times, gained and lost my dream job, got involved in the worst relationship of my life. But, I also gained the best friend I’ve ever had, bought my first home at age fifty-six and most of all, found peace with myself and my life. Now, life goes along at a fairly even keel. There are a few minor bumps in the road now and then, but they seem to be easy to step over and keep moving ahead. I still have to work hard at my job, and there are definitely challenges in home ownership that I never experienced as a renter. Working hard at my job is a given, as I’m a perfectionist about my work, and I don’t consider that the same kind of challenge. In general though, life is mighty fine these days. No huge challenge, no deep struggles, just peace and a sort of contentment. Maybe it’s not quite as exciting as the days when I lived for the struggle, but it sure is an easier calmer life. And that’s okay with me.
I need the struggle to feel alive
It used to be my mantra, the thing I told my friends over and over again. I told strangers and family the same. I like the struggle. I like challenges. Challenges are fun. Struggle and challenge make me stronger, make me feel good about myself. So there’s a financial struggle, so there’s a relationship struggle, well, I can get through it. Yeah, that’s what I always said. And I did get through it all, patting myself on the back for my strength and sheer stubbornness. Aren’t I something? I even used to tell trainers at the school where I went to get a guide dog, that I liked a dog that would give me a bit of a challenge. I mean, who wants a guide dog that just does everything you tell them to do without ever deciding to do something different?
But life has a way of calling us on our bullshit. And I strongly believe God has a sense of humor. And sometimes, a struggle comes along that is too much, or a heartache happens that sheer stubbornness and determination cannot overcome. When that happened to me, everything changed, and I knew I did not want the struggle anymore.
My dad died at age fifty-seven, February 12, 1997. He was eighteen when I was born, so he was a young man still. We watched him struggle with cancer for two years, before his body finally gave up the fight. His death knocked the hell out of me, and some twenty years later, a part of me still grieves, still is angry and still wonders why. His death also ended my mad love of and joy in the struggle and challenge. From that day onward, I wanted things to be easy and smooth. There are just some challenges too big to carry around, too painful to revel in surviving.
It isn’t to say that life has been smooth sailing. It hasn’t. Since then I moved a few times, gained and lost my dream job, got involved in the worst relationship of my life. But, I also gained the best friend I’ve ever had, bought my first home at age fifty-six and most of all, found peace with myself and my life. Now, life goes along at a fairly even keel. There are a few minor bumps in the road now and then, but they seem to be easy to step over and keep moving ahead. I still have to work hard at my job, and there are definitely challenges in home ownership that I never experienced as a renter. Working hard at my job is a given, as I’m a perfectionist about my work, and I don’t consider that the same kind of challenge. In general though, life is mighty fine these days. No huge challenge, no deep struggles, just peace and a sort of contentment. Maybe it’s not quite as exciting as the days when I lived for the struggle, but it sure is an easier calmer life. And that’s okay with me.