Still Kicking

All my life, I have made it a practice to push myself in some way every day. With every passing year, that practice feels less necessary, and more resistible.    

Take last Saturday. Sam and I planned to spend the night in the vacation house we’ve been fixing up, but it had been raining like crazy all day and by late afternoon the temperature was dropping fast. It occurred to me that with all the standing water we would be iced in for who knows how long if we stayed. Sam was unconcerned but left the decision to stay or return home to me.  I wanted quasi-desperately to leave, but while packing up, I examined my true motive: separation anxiety. I wanted to be in the place I knew, not this place I was still getting to know. I managed to work through my panicked inclination and we ended up having burgers and beer at a local dive and a cozy night. The next morning was frigid but the roads were dry. We drove home. The end.

This story sounds like no big deal, but these days, I cling to safe harbor. It was good to find out there’s still a defiant part of me that won’t let myself off the hook without a fight, that reminds me that discomfort is where things get interesting, and that I’m still alive.