What Doesn't Kill Us

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’d give anything to go a year without hearing those words; I’ve never aspired to be a professional wrestler. And it’s better that you found out the truth now, rather than later. That just means that the truth sucks and later it would probably have sucked even more. Or, We’ve all been there. I’m guessing that when they were there they all ran like hell to get out, everyone’s been there and no one wants to stay. But this too will pass. And so will a golf ball sized gallstone…

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. The problem is that no one in their right mind likes lemonade past the age of six. And life just keeps tossing you lemons. So we try to make the best of it, but one can only suck down so many vodka sodas with lemon and most of the time a tall glass of iced tea just won’t cut it.

Eventually, something has to give. And the older I get the more I wish that I never grew up. Or the more I wish that I would just get there already. The years between my first bike and my first motor powered wheelchair are proving to be a lot harder than I had anticipated. I find myself longing for the days when I can eat chocolate for every meal, without guilt or consideration for my figure and devote my time to watching reruns of the Golden Girls and Sex & the City. I know this may sound like I’m just being lazy, but I think it would be a lot easier to seize the day if there weren’t so damn many of them.

I have to admit that I might miss out on a lot too. I’d miss the mind-numbing commute to work every day and the bucket of birthday bagels I get each year. I’d miss the rent is due, my car just got towed, I lost my cellphone, and I’m broke emotional breakdowns. I’d miss the bad hair days, the fat days, and the I have absolutely nothing to wear and hate all of my clothes days. I’d miss the heart aches, the break ups and the make-up sex… oh wait, I kinda like that. I’d miss the I can’t take this anymore and I really need a cocktail happy hours, followed by the I’m never drinking again hangover, usually shortly followed by the I will never learn my lesson champagne brunch. I’d miss the good hair days (rare) and the I look pretty hot in this outfit nights (even rarer) and I’d really miss Grey’s Anatomy. I’d miss my first everythings that haven’t happened and all of my first everythings that I hope never will. Or at least never will again… I mean it was bad enough the first time.

So we go through life, putting on our armor and our heels and our lipgloss and we hope for the best. We try to come out as lightly bruised and faintly scarred as possible. We make a million mistakes along the way. And we search for that someone or something that doesn’t kill us, for that sense of peace, happiness, and love so powerful that we can finally be weak… at least for a little while.