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It has been a long time since I wrote something frank in here. The past 2 weeks have been extremely trying and a time to face new challenges. I think it’s safe to say I have never really truly failed at something, until now. Through out college I tried hard and did fairly well. Even when I did chemistry and received my first ever “D” on a test, I worked with the professor every day after class to understand lessons. I ended up passing and even receiving a recommendation from the prof. I was kind of one of those overachievers: triple major, a leader in various extra-curricular activities, and had several jobs at the same time. I have been independent most of my life: when I went through hardship, I did it alone. I sought my own solutions and worked through my own problems. I hardly ever asked for help, perhaps because I was too embarrassed to seem needy.
And now, I have finally failed at something. It’s actually kind of relieving because it’s a lesson I have not yet experienced. It’s humbling and has taught me more than I can ever fathom. I believe that I have been scared to ask for help, or admit wrong for a long time. Perhaps because I used to think it seemed weak to do so. But, now, I think I understand. I can’t think of an analogy of how I would imagine people (puzzle pieces?), but we all have various talents and short-comings. I’ve always been a collaborative person, driven toward a goal of success. But, now I see when I make a mistake, or don’t know how to do something, asking for help is what fills in the cracks of my talents and lack of talents. It’s how we can learn and grow.
For now, I have made a mistake. Or several. And I’m learning more than I have learned in a long time. About myself, about others, about punishment and success. About how hard I can push myself. About the importance of rest. About sucking up your pride and asking others for a hand. And how sweet that relief can be.
There are so many stories I wish I could share and metabolize through this blog, but I can’t because of fear of risking client’s identities.
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Since starting my no-money-May challenge for myself, I have gotten a lot better at riding my bike. I can make it up hills, I have endurance, and I feel badass racing cars. I feel stronger and I am always aware of my quads. Working, working.
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A man told me the other day that he has been living with HIV for 34-years and all of his friends were dead. I felt so touched that he would share this with a stranger, myself. When he was diagnosed it was when the CDC called it “GRIDS.” I can’t even fathom.
In other news, my city is weird
Sounds about right. I think I can make it happen.