A Good Beating


Someone told me that things sound like they are pretty rough. I smiled and said I am taking a good beating and they said it didn’t sound pleasant.

I said it wasn’t and then explained I am surviving.

“What does that mean?”

I offered the following as a sort of explanation.

“The worst part of a fist fight to me isn’t necessarily getting hit. I don’t like it, but I hate the anticipation, wondering what might happen and whether it will really hurt. Once I get hit the anticipation goes away because I know what it feels like and I adjust.”

Can’t say they told totally understood, but I think they mostly got it.

What is going on right now is sort of an old-fashioned ass kicking but I give as good as I get, if not better.

I don’t want to say I have a handle on it all because I don’t, but I have a pretty good grip and most of the time I feel like it is getting better.

But there are moments that are heartbreaking and there is a dull ache that doesn’t want to go away.

Won’t be like this forever, just have to keep pushing forward. Would be nice to get some help and more than a hug.

But hell, even a hug or two would go a long way.

Regardless of what happens I am going to press on, can’t stare at the fog, have to walk into and through.

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