Wings or Weights?

We don’t get to choose what happens to us, but we do get to choose what we do about it.

It’s something I’ve always known but never thought deeply about it. That’s how life tends to be; we don’t ponder about something until it’s relevant. But sometimes, it’s worth thinking about ideas and working on making them relevant.

I find myself going back to where I was last year at this time; regaining my footing as I inched my way back into real life, albeit dragging along my wound vac that I so abhorred.

Although it’s been close to a year since my wound vac and I parted ways and thankfully I’ve since healed completely and moved on – the experience still stays with me. The experience of being deathly ill, of being bed bound and dependent on everyone around me, of being the receiver of endless love and care; the experience of a slow and painful recovery and the experience of walking in the sunshine and feeling like myself again. Each part of that experience didn’t go away; because our experiences never do. We can want to delete them, like I sometime find myself wishing I could, but we don’t have that option. They become an inseparable part of who we are. So what do we do with them?

Which brings me to the thought; we don’t get to choose what happens to us, but we do get to choose what we will do with it. And it’s either wings or weights.

The experience is always there, and I find that from day to day I wear it differently. Some days it’s like a backpack, sitting snug with me and moving in sync with my every move as I go through the day.

Some days it’s more of a crossbody bag, kind of getting in the way when I try to do certain things like bending down or to squeeze by something.

Some days it’s hanging on my shoulder like a too long handbag, banging into me every now and then, trying to throw me off balance.

Some days it’s the stool I stand on to reach up just a bit farther than I thought possible.

And then there’s those days that instead of me standing on it, it’s standing on me. Like a 20 lb weight sitting on my head, slumping my shoulders and making it hard to stand straight. And it makes me stop in my tracks; with intention, I need to carefully reach upward and focus intently on moving it, holding it tightly so as not to drop it, and find a more comfortable place for it to rest.

And the best moments of all are when I allow the experiences to morph into my wings. Wings that take me higher than I imagined; accomplish things I thought were impossible. Wings of the lightest material that help me soar. The wings bring out my talents and strengths, and make me even more of myself.

The moments can change often, even in one day. Many, many times a day.

It’s true that the more drama and trauma that someone experiences, the more obviously relevant these ideas are. But it applies to every single life experience. They are all an inseparable part of what makes us who we are. We don’t get to choose what will happen, but we always get to choose what we can do about it.

Allow yourself to find your wings. There are so many. And when the wing moments happen, you’ll be so glad that you found them. I know that I am.