Lonely games lost against you.



Not too long ago, I bought K a copy of “Oh, The Places You’ll Go!” by Dr. Seuess. I’ve purchased this book a few times prior, but interestingly never for a child. Instead, it’s become a go-to gift for friends and family who graduate from high school or college.


Once upon a time, about a decade ago, I was in college, working towards my B.A. in Early Childhood Education. In one of my classes, our professor would gift us, upon completion of a big project, with little quotes from “Places”. I still have one of them now, protected a little plastic frame. The book, full of those classic Suessian rhymes, is so surprisingly deep. It marked on my mind, “Life can be so incredibly hard. Sometimes, you’ll fail. But with brains and determination, you can pick yourself up and keep going.” These are messages that could be taken universally, but often did not stick in the five year old kids I’d babysit’s little worlds. So I saved it for the grown-ups who were at crossroads, and gave the kiddies “Green Eggs & Ham” (which I think could benefit a bunch of grownups I know, too…).


K’s copy has pretty much become Z’s now. She brings me the book every. single. day. Many times, three. times. a. day. In re-reading repeatedly, it’s sing-songy verses are now seeping into my thick skull. While I was reading it yesterday, I got stuck on a particular passage, the one pictured above. Hmm…


My ugliest, nastiest battles have been against me. I am my worse enemy.




I thought of this when I wrote my friend April about an incident that occured over the weekend between me and K. I wrote:


“My husband does these little things that save me, especially from myself. Today as we were walking into the cafe for lunch, I stepped up on the curb like normal. He stopped to point it out, to praise me. He immediately warned me against over thinking it.
As we were leaving, I did exactly that and was stuck at the curb. I eventually walked to an area and used a pole to step down.

He told me in the car he thought I should go back and do it. I said fine knowing I couldn’t. He drove around to the curb and I got out. And just like that I stepped up and then back down. I busted out laughing with surprise while he proudly and loudly clapped. We looked crazy, I’m sure.

But it’s in those moments I feel so protected, encouraged and free. He sees me in a way I can’t even imagine, and its both frightening and beautiful.”


Please do not misunderstand this to mean I am conjuring up having CIDP or stopping myself from getting better. I’m not a Word of Faith believer or advocate.


But it is true that there are times I don’t even try because I already have my mind set to fail. On that day, it was a good neuro day. So good that while I was blabbing away about Saturday’s post, I “forgot” to be scared to try to step up, and I was able to, without anxiety, worry and tears. I asked K later what would he have done if I fell. He said he would’ve come over, picked me up, and clapped, because I faced my fear, because I tried.


Yes, there will be shots not made, games not won and trips and tumbles. Oh, what a worthy foe we face in ourselves.



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