Fighting an uphill battle is a rarely a wise strategy.
Despite your determination, will power, and strength, the bitter foe smirking from above has a steep advantage. A simple flick of his finger can trigger a bombardment of boulders hurdling down towards you and a mere bat of an eye can blow you 50 feet back.
I’ve personally been fighting my way uphill towards happiness, sanity, and a healthy mind set with the pesky enemy of Covid-19 looking down on me. I manage to dodge the big rocks hurled my way, but I am so battered and bruised from the fight that it’s the simple puffs of wind that wreck me.
My metaphorical boulders range from figuring out how to support myself to unexpected moves to Jeremy’s Visa restrictions that have landed him back in Australia. I handle these big issues with a deft hand and clear mind as I am able to internalize the damages to solve the issue. But the broken bones and bruising linger below the surface, and I have no strength to stand against the little gusts of wind as silly as the grocery store being out of eggs, being asked to do data entry for 8 hours at work, and dropping my dinner plate on the floor.
I break down, scold myself for doing so, slap on a smile, and start the trek up once more.
I have realized the stupidity in this plan of attack, and devised a new plan: the downhill strategy. This involves acknowledging that things simply are not good, accepting that this is what my life is at the moment, and moving forward knowing I can’t change the world.
Things suck. Plain and simple. The dance and entertainment industry is forever damaged and I may never dance professionally again, I work 11 hour days with a 2 hour commute each way, Jeremy had to return to Australia and we have no clue when we will see each other again, 1,000s of people are dying every day, and I can’t even get tacos and happy hour margaritas because everything is closed.
No amount of worrying will make the answer clearer as to what will happen to the dance world and people aren’t going to stop dying from the coronavirus simply because I spend all night awake thinking about it.
I can’t control what is being thrown at me, but I can roll with the punches to make the blow less severe. This means being okay with feeling sad, angry, and frustrated, and resisting the urge to enter a bubbly cheerleader role while trying to pretend like everything is “normal”. Lowering my arms in these fights gives me more energy to focus on what I can do.
I CAN try to work as much as possible (it all sucks anyways, so why not throw on another 20 hours a week?) I CAN get exercise to feel good about myself. I CAN eat a good diet to stay healthy. I CAN just watch tv and cry a little bit without feeling frivolous and silly. I CAN just make my own margaritas and tacos.
From the bottom comes fresh perspective. I quickly see that there are less treacherous paths to take upwards, and that the slow winding roads may be safer than the sharp incline up.
No one likes to go down, but sometimes it’s exactly what you need to rise back up again