Just call me Einstein.
Not exactly on point with the illogical dream plan.
And trust me, I so wish it didn't.
I often talk to my clients about shedding what doesn't serve them, and like many people, I know it is easier to share advice than follow it yourself. I believe, and have written extensively about, the fact that we all have a choice in how we live our lives. We cannot decide what happens to us, but we can always decide how we respond. But, I think shame falls into a bit of a gray area in this department - not clearly defined by chance or choice, which is why it has been on my mind lately.
I don't want to be ashamed of the boxes of unused running clothes, or dust-collecting children's books. I don't want to feel a twinge of pain and embarrassment every time I get a medical bill in the mail, or when people ask me when I'm having kids. I don't want to constantly think about the emotional and financial burden I have been to my husband and family.
But I do. Every day.
And I know it doesn't serve me.
I am under no illusion that making some grand blog-post proclamation that I am shedding my skin of shame will actually make it happen, but I think there is something very powerful in sharing your intentions. I can't start off my 33rd year in a new home with health and vitality, but I can certainly decide to start it with a renewed focus on exuberance and self-worth, despite the never-ending roller coaster of my immune system.
And that is exactly what I plan to do.
So no - life most certainly is not stable, and you know what? It may never be. I raise questions and provoke befuddled looks from the medical community and challenge every pharmacist I've ever met. I look fairly normal, but am put together with a lot of stitches, glue, and robotic parts. I'm not living the life I planned, but I am bound and so very determined to live a life that has purpose - no matter the number of infections or breaks or bulging discs.
This is who I am.