I get these underground, buried pimples on my chin sometimes. And every time, despite past experience, I think I can push all that white crap to the surface and pop it all out. And of course, what ends up occurring, is a massacred chin with cuts and bruises, even scars; and the un-phased, stubborn, underground zit smugly stares back at me. I never learn. I repeat this same mistake over and over again thinking THIS time I will discover success: pus popped, mirror splattering, white head success. Gross.
Deep down, I know that if I leave it alone, it will go away eventually, without all that self-inflicted additional mutilation.
In life there crops up metaphorical pimples. Things that aren’t completely life altering, but that make our insides bubble in fury. Like our child locking the car keys in the car while at Target; or your husband’s 60 minute bathroom habit; or the newly discovered bleach spot on your newest blouse; or the guy who flips you off because you cut him off driving while trying to reposition your babies propped up bottle (I mean, not that I would ever prop up my child’s bottle or anything.)
The point is, life will always be unpredictable and even unavoidably messy. But ruminating, dwelling, agonizing over life’s inevitable annoyances will only exacerbate our frustration, not resolve it. It may even cause negative scarring on our outlook of life.
At best, we must laugh at the impossible and then breathe. Breathe deep. Breathe slow. And then recognize, with gratitude, that this is part of being alive. And move on.
Eventually the pimple and any memory of it will all fade away.
Until the next one comes; but this time I vow I’m going to just let it be.