Eye on the prize

My little joke of late, to make light of my temporary woes, is to keep my eye on the prize. What is the prize? Being done with worrying...letting go of the need to control a situation...being free of a person who imprisons you with their drama or malice (or both)...or if you're a true champion-being good with what is?

It's no secret to those close to my heart, that I've been having a hard time with some things. I haven't been fighting it because I'm smart enough to know that none of this will kill me. Life taught me that. But not fighting it doesn't mean that I'm not standing up to it. Its new meaning is just that I don't see it as unfair. I'm not its victim. I'm just the person playing this part right now. Maybe this is a part that I need to play. I need to see what needs to be done. I need to see what my opponent is seeing, feeling and needing as well.

But where is the prize for my friend who has lost her child? Is survival that prize? Is that all she gets from this? Some freak accident combined with an unfortunate physical deficiency has handed her the most excruciating death sentence, and her profession of truth is that we need to survive this. It's okay to kick and scream, she told me. "You have to," was her final punch.

So a grieving mom who has every right to be angry at the world, even at fucking LIFE, has made it so clear to me, that we have to win. Winning is not getting everything that we want or think we deserve-winning is BEING in spite of the shitstorms that try to drown us. WINNING is being happy in spite of the arrows and barbs that are slung at us by our enemies. Surviving it all is what defines our life. Winning is learning to be, or be happy, in spite of what we're looking at, or in my case, through.

This morning was one of those times that was painfully lonely. I felt it in my dreams before I even woke up, and awoke to the reality that my current pain is worse than I had wanted to credit it. It's even, possibly, worse case scenario of which I was warned. I can hear my little tirade chanting that "this does not define me" echoing across the sky and back again after hitting the hills across the valley. But maybe, just maybe-this DOES define me. Maybe my eyes are erupting as a manifestation of the truths that I've been hiding from. Maybe the prize is something I never thought to ask for. Maybe my eyes on this prize are more painful and real than I expected. Maybe this ugly truth that I need to see, is my prize.