“ I always win. I go in there knowing I am going to win. I know I have the county of Indiana behind me, and probably the whole state of Pennsylvania. I always win,” my husband said to me the other day as we were talking about his job at the county jail. “When an inmate tells me ‘hey, wadda you doin in my cell?’ I tell them, ‘Heck no, bud, you’re in my cell. I’m just lettin’ you use it for a while.’ I always win.” He stayed quiet for a few minutes, then continued. “And you know what? If 40 of them wanted to gang up on me and kick my butt, I know I can’t beat ‘em all, but I’m gonna take the first one down with me…So either way, I’d still win. I never lose.”
I used to think that way, a long time ago. There was something incredibly exhilarating in “going for it,” knowing I would bring it to the end, no matter what. Like when I ran my marathon. I was going to cross the finish line—even if it meant crawling at the end. I simply wasn’t going to not finish. It was that simple.
I don’t think that way anymore… Life happened, and I became a little callous, less full of expectations. I find myself having more of a “que sera sera” attitude these days: I’ll try my best, but it’s very possible that it just won’t turn out. That’s just how it goes. If I don’t set my sights too high, I won’t be disappointed. And honestly, it’s no big deal if I lose since I don’t really expect to win. So realistically, I don’t try very hard–what’s the point?
But listening to my husband made me realize that life doesn’t taste as good anymore. “Que sera sera” just doesn’t lend itself to fullness.
And I miss life’s deliciousness.
Something deep within my soul woke up as I clearly saw that I somehow had stepped away from being the fighter that I was born to be. And you know what? I think I may just be too young for settling this way. There is a whole life out there for me to live, there are adventures to experience, challenges to take on. And I am hungry for the sweet taste of victory.
“I always win.” Somehow I needed to hear those words on that day.