I used to have nice curves, operative words being ‘used to.’ Oh well, ‘it is what it is.’ Of course I miss them but I console myself in knowing that I’m “not bad for my age.” When you resort to that quip you know you’ve arrived.
“It is what it is” so keenly sums up life’s condition in ways you can’t without writing tons of words. Even if you could write tons of words about what you’re feeling they wouldn’t do justice to how things really feel. It works for me because ‘it’ really ‘is’ whatever ‘it is’ so you might as well accept ‘it’ for ‘what’ it is, even if it takes you a long time to figure just what the heck ‘what’ is.
Are you still with me?
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy sayings, adages, quips, and colloquialisms?
When we have a problem it may seem insignificant to someone else, because, after all, we all have problems. But this problem is our problem so it is important to us. That makes perfect sense. We’ve all been there, we all know it.
I’ve often thought of others’ problems and I’d much rather live with mine than theirs. I suppose that’s because we’re familiar with ours or maybe in some respect we know our problems came as some result of our own decision-making, where another’s are foreign and unfamiliar. So we’re just a lot more comfortable dealing with our own.
Having said all of that … how do you react to life’s curve balls?
When I was younger and life changed too abruptly in a way I just knew I couldn’t tolerate, I flew into some melodramatic moment of temporary insanity, well, not literally, but you know what I mean. It was like, if I rejected whatever happened intensely enough life would convert back to what it was (not ‘is’). I actually thought if I threw a big enough tantrum I could make life be what I wanted to believe of it. Sometimes I was so annoying people were pleased to let me think life had returned to my normal but, of course, it always went back to what it really was. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that wasn’t working.
So I grew up. Then I’d go off by myself and cry, sometimes for hours or even days, having too much pride to admit life had disappointed me again. I’d come out from having digested the pieces as best I could, trying to make the best of things. Sometimes that worked and sometimes it didn’t. Whatever I did to cope, life always returned to what it (really) was, so eventually I had to deal with the real problem anyway, often the same problem. Man, am I contrary. Dang it.
Now I don’t throw fits and I almost never cry … in fact I surprise myself because there are many times when I really should cry – when most people would – and still I don’t. That actually perplexes me. I think I’ve cried so much I’ve come to know how useless in-the-moment crying is. Months later I might find myself crying over something that didn’t make any sense at all, but apparently that’s the way I’ve adapted to handling things.
I did cry profusely, recently, when my Dad died. That was a well understood cry so it made sense, regardless that I knew it couldn’t change a thing. It felt good to cry then. I needed to cry then. I spent days doing it, which verged on not feeling okay by the time I was finally done. I think when I cried then I cried for all of the things that I hadn’t cried about before then.
Life will always be
the same thing just a little different.
There will always be people who remind me,
I’d like to buy them for what they’re worth & sell them for what they think they’re worth.
I’ll always think of an accusing lover,
The man who looks under the bed has been there.
And how many times have I questioned and will again [Plato if I recall],
All of the world is insane but me & thee and I’m beginning to worry about thee.
But I think “it is what it is” will always be my favorite, because that’s just the way things are.
In response to WordPress Daily Prompt, “Curve.”