The Masochism Tango
When I was a dancer on the rise the worst thing happened. My knee blew out. A career ending kind of injury. It was devastating, causing a sea change in my life that rippled for decades.
So now that I’m a designer, and a reasonably established one at that… well of course the knee is fine. But then I️ don’t ask a lot of it these days.
….and of course my eyes are now nearing “toast status”. Somehow this figures.
It’s nothing tragic or awful. No multisyllabic degenerative eye disease at work. Nope. Just some funky type of cataracts that are fast growing at a relatively young age, on top of eyes that basically suck anyway.
And they’re screwing with me big time.
So this means eye surgery.
Now I’ve had surgery. Five times on my knees. A few in other remote spots here and there. No big deal.
But eyes. Now that’s getting personal.
While I️ wouldn’t exactly say I’m a wreck I️ would say…. well okay I’m a wreck. I️ have some weird Right Brain/Left Brain thing happening here.
Lefty is nice and calm, anticipating how awesome it’s going to be to see the world sans migraines and a light schmear of motor oil. Given that this is the worst possible time to do this, embedded smack inside the only possible time to do this, Lefty is chugging away overtime getting runners off the bases and into home before Eye-Day. Lefty is tired.
Righty, on the other hand, is ready to hit the bars. Totally wired and doing what Righty does: creatively telling stories. To itself. In a loop. Over and over. Stories that involve neither rainbows, unicorns or butterflies.
So while Lefty is struggling to maintain order in the Control Room, Fear and Anxiety are doing The Masochism Tango at Club Last Nerve while all my off duty brain cells are drowning their sorrows in nicely aged stomach acid. I️ am stuck in the middle of this inner civil war.
I️t is not pretty in here.
But what the heck does this have to do with YOUR business?
Maybe nothing. But maybe everything.
Maybe Lefty is onto something here. He is, after all, driving the bus. I️ do plan to show up on Monday morning with my eye drops and awesome surgical sunglasses in hand ready to surrender my left eyeball (little irony there…) to God and my doctor. I️ am not on the first plane out of town with the gang from Club Last Nerve. Not yet anyway.
Righty is pitching but I’m trying real hard not to catch. He puts on one helluva show and is real convincing.
Fear is like that.
But Lefty is a smart cookie. Lefty knows this will make all of our lives better. I️ trust Lefty. He knows things. I’m going with him.
Who are you going with? The irrational fears in your head, or the calm analytical voice?
Which one has a chance at making your life better?
See you on the other side of the schmear.
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