The Joke Is On Me

I guess I had always assumed I would grow old and feisty, holding my own until it was time to let go.  Life, however has a way of changing all that.  Often times without you even minding all that much.

Of course being strong doesn’t come in holding the fort on your own.  It doesn’t come from being unyielding and independent to the point of too far removed from everything else.  Not, strength they tell assure me comes from admitting you need help and allowing others to help you.

The growing old part can’t be helped.  No one can really avoid that, fact of life and all the rest that goes with it.

Feisty is a matter of opinion I guess.  For some maybe it is a way of life.  For most it is moments of feistiness caught up with other things.    For some it is nothing to be desired or wanted.  I wish to wrap myself up in feistiness as if it were a cloak.

Its fear, more or less, that makes me embrace feistiness.  For I wish to be strong, and strong means standing up in my own two feet.  Strong means not needing help and needing others despite lupus.  Except of course, the real rub with lupus is that you can’t do it all on your own all the time.  So the trick is to think you are letting others help for them.  The real joke is on you though, because you aren’t letting anyone help you.  They are show grace, love and humanity in helping you despite your bluff of feistiness.


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