the ugly side of life

Life happens in a lot of ways. Many of those ways are cruel, ugly, and unforgiving. Ways that make us wonder why these broken moments need to happen. Is this the worlds way of attempting to keep balance? Is this a needed pause for us all to reevaluate our priorities and reestablish grace and gratitude within? Moments meant to keep us aware of the importance of humility and without the ability to be humble we will never be able to learn and grow from these ugly and broken moments.

As someone who writes a blog sharing my plethora of ugly and broken moments, along with my directionless way towards healing and finding inner grace; my ability to achieve humility is a daily struggle. I’m ornery, hardheaded, private, terrible at asking for help, rarely express my actual feelings, and Queen of all things “fine.” I’m a true peach. If you are willing to put up with the aforementioned traits, I suppose you are owed a medal or your own psych eval. Life’s broken moments can have a cancerous way about them. They can consume you and before you know it, forever alter you.

I am also someone that when I step out of my comfort zone and ask for help or share my feelings and it isn’t received favorably, I shut down. Retreat. Why ask for help when you “know“ the outcome is going to be faced with pushback. While asking for help is a daily work in progress, it does not deter me from being helpful. I do hold tight to the fact that my areas of growth have not made me bitter towards others and being open to receiving and meeting their needs.

The first 19 days of January have been a hot mess. If I am being honest, hot mess, is a gross understatement. My only other comparison involves colorful language. My iPhone is starting to feel more like Pandora’s box than an overpriced way to be social. I won’t even get started on the good news my email seems to be full of these days. The older I get living off grid has its appeal.

By nature I’m a morning person , I won’t sing with the birds and feed Jaq and GusGus, but I’m out of bed and ready to roll. Even when life is more messy than magical. Perhaps part of me is a hidden optimist that thinks tomorrow can’t possibly be worse than yesterday. Perhaps it’s my subconsciouses way of telling me “hey, we made it another day.”

We have no way of finding out what each day is going to greet us with. From those who live life on a whim to those who plan out every second of everyday, we never know what curveball is lurking behind the next stroke on the clock. While patience isn’t my strongest virtue and I value preparedness, there is no playbook for every situation we will face. I’m not sure I necessarily want one. Would it make things easier or less painful , no. Playbooks provide logistical support, they don’t provide emotional protection or stability. I can promise you if someone had provided me a playbook in October of 2019, I likely would have thrown at someone.

Life, no matter how hard, messy, and broken, is meant to be lived. A sentiment that I have struggled to believe and embrace, many times over. I won’t end on a cliché, overdone sentiment, or channel Annie and tell you that tomorrow is only a day away. Let’s be honest, that could be perceived as a threat some days, especially in 2022.