One year ago this week, life got crazy. The tiny square of a carpet I occupied was ripped out from underneath me, like the table cloth trick. Only the porcelain and silver fared better.
I was determined to move forward. Every.day.move. Inches did seem like miles but I wanted them. I am sure it looked less like progress and more like chaos–me amassing and gluing together each inch; making a mile of my life.
The need for control, manifested differently in two separate individuals within 24 hours, left me without that carpet square and squarely on my bum. Two outlets for healing unplugged.
One plug puller resulted in this. This blog came out of that struggle for control. For once, it wasn’t me trying to control a situation. I hoped this meant progress.
The other, well, it meant more work on the healing journey. Hike up, then back down, only to return to the upward path. The ups and backs providing more opportunity to learn, to entrench myself in health.
On this anniversary week, life has flip-flopped again. Yesterday felt like a belly flop, if I were to be transparent.
Maybe my mile down the road truly is an inch when measured. And maybe when you see me out and about and the whole front side of me is stinging red flesh today, you will think , “What a mess!”
Me and my bag full of inches will simply reply, “You shoulda seen me last year.”