Life's a Bitch
I don't know what brought the phrase, "Life's a bitch, and then you die" into the forefront of my mind this morning. I really haven't heard it or thought about it since high school in the late 80's. It's not a mantra I choose to live by--a little too pessimistic for my tastes. And, it feels like a cop-out.
But, you know what? Sometimes it also feels like the right sentiment.
When I was younger, I was overly optimistic and idealistic. I expected things to go right, to work out perfectly. I was beside myself when things went wrong, dramatizing every little inconvenience into an event of catastrophic proportions.
And then, Life happened.
Knowing I wouldn't survive the "real world" in Sally Sunshine mode, that bitch molded me into a cautiously optimistic woman with enough of a cynical edge to survive the hardships she doles out, sometimes in quick succession. At times, it has felt as if Life held my head under water until I was just about to drown, then graciously allowed me to take a breather before dunking me again.
It has taken me 48 years to learn that Life can be a fickle bitch, but she can also be a compassionate ally. She might push you down the stairs sometimes, but she'll also hold a frozen bag of peas on your black eye. I have learned to respect both sides of her, to learn from her lessons, to thank her for her kindnesses, to accept her gracious gifts with a grateful heart, but to sleep with one eye open in case she decides to try to smother me with my pillow.
What choice do I have? She's not going to change her modus operandi anytime soon. It's up to me to learn how to navigate her world.
But, you know what? Sometimes it also feels like the right sentiment.
When I was younger, I was overly optimistic and idealistic. I expected things to go right, to work out perfectly. I was beside myself when things went wrong, dramatizing every little inconvenience into an event of catastrophic proportions.
And then, Life happened.
Knowing I wouldn't survive the "real world" in Sally Sunshine mode, that bitch molded me into a cautiously optimistic woman with enough of a cynical edge to survive the hardships she doles out, sometimes in quick succession. At times, it has felt as if Life held my head under water until I was just about to drown, then graciously allowed me to take a breather before dunking me again.
It has taken me 48 years to learn that Life can be a fickle bitch, but she can also be a compassionate ally. She might push you down the stairs sometimes, but she'll also hold a frozen bag of peas on your black eye. I have learned to respect both sides of her, to learn from her lessons, to thank her for her kindnesses, to accept her gracious gifts with a grateful heart, but to sleep with one eye open in case she decides to try to smother me with my pillow.
What choice do I have? She's not going to change her modus operandi anytime soon. It's up to me to learn how to navigate her world.
Comments
Post a Comment