Life Lesson No. ... Hell, I've Lost Count, Not That I Was Ever Counting In The First Place ...
Last night, I discovered something that was a bit of a slap in the face. It wasn't the first such instance.
But it was the last.
This morning, I started a blog post but none of the starts made sense. So I scrapped the thing and did dishes.
I like doing dishes. It's good therapy. Takes me out of my head for the most part as I transform the pile of dirty dishes into an array of clean dishes, resting on the kitchen towel, drying, waiting to be put away.
But while I was doing the dishes, I asked myself, "How do I want to respond to this?" (I'm pretty sure that was your voice,
My bruised ego wanted to be bitchy and petulant.
But my logical self, my – dare I say "grown-up" – self didn't want to feel that way, didn't want to leave that impression on the moment, because I knew I'd regret it later.
So, by the time I was rinsing the suds out of the sink, I'd arrived at a good place. I'd owned my role in the situation. I shouldn't have let it go on for so long. I should have stood up for myself sooner and either gotten what I needed or cut ties.
Women tend to make a lot of excuses and exceptions. We tend to cut a lot of slack. Some of us cut too much. Some of us take longer to learn certain lessons.
But learn we do. Eventually. I do, anyway. I have.
And so, here I am, on the other side of a life lesson, one I feel like I should have learned before, but maybe I'm more of an optimist than I realize. Or maybe I'm more of an ostrich.
Either one. They both begin with Os.
As does this: