Wrecking Ball

How 5’2″ can have the force of 5010N is a mystery to me. Truly, I am not trying to be melodramatic…but to be honest, I love hyperbole. Lately everything I touch is at risk of being cracked, smashed, punctured, and all around obliterated. Did I get exposed to gamma rays and not know it?

Balancing four full plates on my arms used to be a secondary action that required little thought, now washing a wine glass is the equivalent of handling a glass atom bomb. The day that I can do something, and the words, “Well, it is the thought that counts,” isn’t the response is desperately needed.

It is a human tendency to feel bad for yourself when things aren’t going the way you want, and I got over the fact that my life is not where I want it to be, and I acknowledge that God’s will for me is bigger and better than anything I could imagine…but now I am combating the childish want to pout, because I can’t even do the dishes, defrost a refrigerator, or pass the remote without wrecking something. If nothing else, I have a promising future in demolition derbies!

I guess my hands turning into huge green smashing tools whenever I try and do something is salt and gravel scratching at the scab I am trying so hard not to pick.

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