How do you win?
Or better yet, how do you stick it out,
or stick through the rough spots,
or hold on through the humbleness
of falling down, or being knocked down
or beaten and dragged to the right
or left; and essentially,
how does one find the endurance
or the drive to continue
and to persevere
or how do we keep going
when it seems
as if we keep losing ground?
I think these are valid questions.
And further,
I believe these questions deserve
our attention.
I say this because finding the answer
or being able to respond, or to get back up,
each time we fall
or fail, no matter how the pain feels
or if it hurts, or if the humiliation
is too much,
and especially when the juice
no longer seems
like it’s worth the squeeze,
even if this is as simple
as a loss on a scoreboard;
then my question becomes
how does one continue to try
or to drive
or look to score
and navigate
regardless of the points on the board
or the impending loss,
how does one find what it takes
to still compete?
I know there is this thing
we call heart,
which means that no matter what
we have this thing called tenacity,
which means we have “no quit,” in us
as in zero . . .
as if to say,
I don’t care what the scoreboard says
or what the judges tell me
or the bosses,
or the powers that be;
no matter what happens
or no matter how big the loss may seem,
I refuse to allow myself to roll over
or turn belly-up and submit.
I am a person who lives with certain challenges;
however, to some, my challenges
are not challenging at all.
Then again, these challenges are mine
and theirs are theirs, and sometimes
our differences are nothing more
then something different—in which case,
I am me and you are you
and the way I see things is unique or subjective to me.
Hence, the way you see things are unique
and subjective to you.
But that’s fine
Whether my strong side
is my right, or left side
I still have strengths
and weaknesses,
the same as anybody else.
I do not know
what pain feels like to you.
I am unsure nor can I prove
that we see color the same way
or view the sky the same
or hear the same tune
when music plays.
I am a firm believer that we only know
what we are taught . . .
but what if we had imperfect teachers
or learned unhelpful lessons
from unhelpful planners
who did nothing else
but confuse us from the facts
which are that we are capable
of anything, regardless of any challenge
we face.
I cannot tell what food tastes like to you
nor can I feel loss from your perspective.
At the same time,
I swear, there is a relatable drive
regardless of our differences,
or regardless of whether our wants and needs
or if our desires, tastes, and purpose
is different or the same –
still, we all have a relatable core.
Everyone has needs.
We all have thoughts
and wants, and we all have visions
and we all have hopes
and dreams.
We all want to find our place in the circle
and we all want to have our moment
in the spotlight
or to feel the warmth on our skin.
We all want to be good,
if not great, and we all want to find a place
where, at last, we are absolutely
exceptional.
But again,
the road to victory is never smooth
nor easy, nor does this come
without work
or loss, or heartache.
Nothing comes easy . . .
. . . not life
not our dreams . . .
. . . not our desires
and not even our hopes
will come easy.
You have to put in work!
Know this and know this well.
I have this question,
which circles in my head
and it comes to me now –
Was it worth it?
I say this vaguely; however,
I say this simply because
there are times and questions
and bouts, and falls
and trips and accidents
and bumps and bruises,
which we acquire throughout the years
and with each bump
or bruise
or with each scar and memory of the fall,
we tend to learn how to use our energy
instead of waste it.
So, then . . .
Was it worth it?
In some cases,
and even among the cases
where losses were inevitable
and painful; at least, I can say that I tried
or that I gave it my all.
At least, I can say that I sat at the table
and I anteed up
and played my hand.
And sure, there are times when I’ve lost
and I’ve lost with all of my heart,
and I lost big too
but still, the question remains.
Was it worth it?
My answer . . .
Yes.
I say yes even to the unfortunate times
or even when it comes to the unfortunate items
from my past. Were they worth it?
No,
but I am who I am now
because of one, undeniable fact.
I never gave up . . .
I have scars like you
and bad memories, like anyone else
and I have suffered losses,
and I have received my fair share
or beatings and yes,
I know rejection all too well.
“We go back like car seats!”
But, and here’s the answer
to my opening inquiries –
How do I get up?
How do I continue to live
or love, or try again,
or how do I learn to keep going
or work, even if I’m working
or fighting back from the flat of my back;
how do I keep going?
My answer –
I don’t know.
I just do.
I simply cannot and will not
submit to the loss
or succumb to the loss
and let this suck me away
and leave me lifeless.
Therefore, I may not be fluid
or smooth
or cool
or tough—but of all things I am,
I am not someone who has quit
or given up, even when my hope
is hopeless –
I’m still here.
I’m not always at my best
but then again,
I’m not always at my worst either.
And, so . . .
Win or lose, I keep going because,
as I see it, no one is ever undefeated.
Even champions lose
but the earth within them
or their moral fiber
and their substance as a person
and the fire inside of them
that refuses to douse
and the secret to endure
and to rise back up
is what makes them champions
(to me) and otherwise
they are truly
undefeatable.
And that’s exactly who I want to be.
Dear Underdog;
Thank you for this lesson in humility.
I am still here, and breathing.
Thanks to you.
Respectfully, your biggest fan
B—
So?
Let’s get you to the table princess
and ante up,
and regardless of the cards we get,
we can play this next hand . . .
Together
We just have to make it
worth it!
The Written Addiction 