What I’m Made Of

I went on my little Spring Break vacation to visit my family and it was lovely. I don’t get to see my family particularly often and the time with them is never long enough, but I enjoyed immensely what time I did get. It’s also nice to just be out of the city/suburbs for awhile and the colors of spring in rural Missouri inspired me as they always do. The light is just different there.

But the comfortable enjoyment of being back home is only one piece of the puzzle. My life lately has been a little complicated with a series of events ranging from upsetting to semi-traumatic in every facet of my life, personal, professional, semi-private. I got back from my break on Monday night last week and by Wednesday morning I found myself lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling and silently asking what’s next?

There is always, always something next and you take it on, be it bad news or a stressful experience. You take it on and you carry forward with as much resolve that you can. You cry if you need to. You laugh if you can. You lean on those close to you and you offer support to the people going through it with you until you can all make it through to the other side. The other side is rarely a peaceful and trouble free place, but it’s a new opportunity to breathe and understand what you’re made of.

After the past two weeks I’ve come to understand far better what I’m made of, but more than that I’ve come to understand that it is less about the stress or crisis itself, but how you get through it. It’s about more than the moment. It’s about the hours and the days after. The event itself is the spark, but when everything is on fire it’s how you walk through it that counts. This quote from Charles Bukowski sums it up pretty perfectly:


I’m made of pretty tough stuff it would seem, though all of the fires aren’t out and some of them will take a long time to understand. But I feel like I can handle things. That’s a really good feeling.

I’ll be back to regular programming this week. Thanks for hanging in there.


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