I posted on the last day of last year something that’s turned trite and tinny, and I must apologize, because it’s nothing more than an empty promise. “It gets better,” I said, an emulation or a ripoff of a message intended for those who live with bullying, or rejection, or judgment, or fear. You can add to that list.
That’s not true, though. It doesn’t get better. It just is. It does what it wants. It has a mind of its own. It doesn’t regard you, how you’re feeling, what you wish for. It just is. You are inconsequential to it.
The blown red light, the wrong place at the wrong time, the injustice of a decision, the errant division of cells, the poison of words; whatever is decried just happened or worse, even terrifying to most, is that it will. And you can’t stop it.
Really, what you can do with it is relatively limited.
You can fear it. Most do. Much of our communication is driven by the fear perpetuated by it. Fear of judgment, failure, disappointing, consequences beyond our control, as if we had any. Control, that is.
You can resist it. Fate or fortune swings that quotidian pendulum to a place that hurts or a place that feels really good, but the spin of this old orb seems to centrifugally draw that swinging indicator back to where we’ve allowed it to rest, resisting both the differences of what fate and fortune can offer.
You can deny it. Fear is often managed through denial. Not my kid. Not in my backyard. Not in our schools. Not in this country. It kills, it divides, it’s unjust, it’s liberating, it evolves, it teaches.
You can embrace it. All of it. Remove the value; good, bad, right, wrong, heaven, hell, and it just may begin to fit within the circle of your arms. It’s a risk. It will hurt.
And you can heal. It doesn’t get better, you do.
You can get better, better at it. It just is.
You are so much more.