I grew up with grandparents who survived the Holocaust. It was drilled guiltfully into my head from the age of one that life was most definitely unfair and that I had absolutely no right to complain. Things could always be so much worse.
And for the most part, it’s true. I have a home, clean water, food, clothing, safety, a job, a wonderful family, and great friends. Even though I’m facing some big health issues, they seem to be treatable.
But I’m going to disappoint my mother and wallow in self-pity.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair that it’s so hard for me, that I’m constantly banging my head against a wall to just inch my way forward. It’s not fair that I have to carry the weight of my mental and physical disabilities around with me like some 300-pound albatross.
It’s not fair that a few minutes into Krav Maga class, I try to drop to my belly and become so nauseated and dizzy that I have to lie for the rest of the class because I’m fairly sure I’m going to throw up.
It’s not fair I live with my mental voice telling me just how pathetic and worthless I am, as my muscles ache so badly that I start to believe it.
I know, I’m in the right place for things being unfair. Krav Maga is built on unfairness.
It’s presumed we will be smaller and weaker than our attackers. It is presumed we will be at a disadvantage. We train to win as underdogs. So most days, it gives me strength.
But once in a while, this constant unfairness makes me want to scream at the top of my voice “Could you just give me a break?” This is where atheism makes life harder, I have no one to scream at.
That’s why as terrified as I am of this medical process, I’m also so hopeful that maybe this time, I’ll finally get my break. I’ll understand what is holding me back and get treatments to lighten my load. Things will finally just be a little easier for me.
I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m just asking for the albatross to slim down a little, so I can finally feel like I can make progress.
The guilt returns to me. I should be grateful. I should be stoic. Things could always be worse.
Couldn’t they also get better?