In a world of pansies, be a catus.
The day began on a high note. I felt invigorated, overcoming major physical setbacks to lead one of my fitness classes—a promising start. Anticipating sharing the joy of myself imposed success with my person, I looked forward to diving into my significant responsibilities at my job, where I help those genuinely in need. The morning and day unfolded seamlessly until a sudden realization hit me—a noticeable silence, a ghosting. My person… Ah, yes, his day commenced with the unraveling of… his ghosts.
Navigating life’s challenges often calls for empathy, understanding, and a willingness to offer hall passes to those facing trials and tribulations. However, there comes a juncture where it’s crucial to discern when to blow the whistle and throw the yellow penalty flag. Determining this point involves assessing the impact of someone’s actions on themselves and others, the repeated nature of certain behaviors, and whether providing continuous allowances perpetuates a cycle of negative consequences. It’s a delicate balance—one that requires consideration of both compassion and accountability.
At what juncture, and at what cost to my own feelings, do I ponder the duration required for personal growth? I find myself baffled by my person’s apparent inability to truly see me and grasp the impact of their actions on my well-being. The overarching question that lingers is, when do I declare ‘enough’? How many instances of facing plant moments will it take for me to acknowledge that there’s a pressing issue at hand?
Failure… Whose responsibility is it? It seems the finger points to the recurring face plants—I find myself repeatedly planted on the ground. I am the one who advocates open dialogue, the candid conversationalist. Transparency is my forte; I harbor no secrets or lies. Imperfection is my admission, but authenticity—raw, honest, and true—is my essence.
When do I regain my balance and put an end to the consistent face-planting? The undeniable truth is that I hold the reins, the sole controller of this narrative. The looming question remains—when will I firmly take root and put an end to repeatedly smacking my face on the ground?
I’ve read a quote “It’s usually the stuff you want to do the least that changes your life the most.”
Failure, face planting, don’t seem to be working for me. Time to consider a face lift.
The Dish by Deni 