I was rushing around, trying to get out the door. I grabbed the tab at the back of my boot and shoved my foot in while pulling the boot on, then repeated the process with the other foot. Though it was was my feet and my boots I’d just abused, it was a finger on my left hand feeling the burn. Somehow, during the 15 seconds of the Boot Rush, I’d sliced a thin line into the top of my finger–with my own fingernail. It hurt like a sonofabitch (and still stings a bit now), but it’s also not the first time this has happened to me.
It’s possible I’m a major klutz, but I injure myself with my fingernails all the time. They aren’t jagged or torn or sharp or anything unusual. This is just something I’ve accepted about life in this body: my fingernails and I will collide often.
This trait is pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. However, I also trip over my own feet. I run into walls and countertops and chairs. And it was today that I realized this is terrible and perfect freaking metaphor for my own life: I CANNOT GET OUT OF MY OWN WAY.
The physical manifestation of this is easier to identify that the larger thematic problem, of course. But when I get distracted and can’t finish cleaning out my closet? Or I get stuck on something I’m writing? Aren’t these truly all the same problem?
No matter what my goals or intentions are, though, life comes first. When I scratched the heck out of my finger, I didn’t notice until 20 minutes later. I had someplace to be. I couldn’t just sit and indulge the pain I was feeling at the time.
YES, undoubtedly I am a problem…but I am not the only obstacle. I am a more malleable and predictable obstacle than anything the future may throw at me, though, so I am the factor I will try to improve. Things will happen that I’m not expecting. Life will continue to surprise me. I will inevitably collide with walls and fingernails again. I don’t have any control over those little disruptive grenades, but I do have control over how I react to them.
I find myself tired more often than I’d like to be these days. Physically. Mentally. All of the ways you can be tired, that’s me. Even in my exhaustion, I know I can’t give up. I know I can’t indulge in the tiredness. Life moves fast; I may not be able to keep up, but that doesn’t mean I have to quit trying. Even if that means I just keep running into myself.