Control

You all have been privy to my journey of health bumps. From a torn tendon to a boob biopsy, I have learned that I am finally at a stage in my life where I just sit back and enjoy the shit show that is unfolding before me. I no longer react, project, or try to control the situation.

On Wednesday, I got the phone call that my biopsy was perfectly normal. That’s awesome, considering, that I am not normal myself. Glad something on me is. Anyway, the funny thing was that I was never worried about it. My intuition was keen on delivering the “everything is okay” message. I really believed it too. In the past, that wasn’t the case. If you think your projecting was creative, try being a writer. I can create incredibly dramatic scenarios in my head that appear real. I used to binge watch them. Seriously, they should be a Netflix series. The point is, friends, is that reacting and projecting never provided me with peace. They didn’t comfort me and they don’t serve any purpose.

Sure my boob looks like someone used it as a punching bag and my hostage situation AKA the boot /appendage is still attached to me, but I am overflowing with gratitude. Grateful that I continue to do the next right thing without reacting. Grateful that fear didn’t cloud my peace. It doesn’t take much for me to be pushed to the edge. However, I will say, that the older I get, the further removed from the edge, I become. Maybe it is the acceptance that most things are out of my control. Or perhaps, I am just willing to be along for the ride, while I trust the process, curious as to what happens next.

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