A friend of mine from grade school commented on her Facebook page today that her life was like a game of Mother May I? She was forever taking one step forward and two steps back. Then it dawned on me, that my life is rather like a game of Dodgeball. I never much liked Dodgeball. The idea that people get to target you and pummel you with a ball while you dodge and weave to avoid sudden impact always struck me as rather cruel.
I loved elementary school growing up. Loved it. I even liked PE. I did not, however, care for Dodgeball. It always made me anxious. It made me feel like I was in the crosshairs.
In a lot of ways, I guess I still feel that way. Even though I am forty, I still worry about juggling all of life's commitments and requirements and necessities. I still get that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about something I needed to do...or can't afford to do...or simply wish I could do (but feel like I crappy mother/wife/sister/friend because I can't do it).
I was talking to a dear friend the other day and I mentioned how in some ways, with some people, we would always be 10 years old. Like when you go home for the holidays and no one takes you seriously, or recognizes your accomplishments, or that you actually do know what you're talking about.
For some people, I will always be ten years old--with hair forever in need of brushing, and braces, with her nose stuck in a book. In many ways, I guess I still see myself that way...
...and I can hear the whiz of the ball as it just barely misses me.