How Bad Do You Want It

I live in Arizona and my home was included in the dust storm last week. This left my patio looking terrible. Everything was powdered in this super-fine gray dust. It was messy and abundant. So last night I decided to re-arrange the patio and sweep it all up. My dear husband was cooking dinner and I kept calling him to come out and pile the leaves and dead bloom out of the dark corners, convinced it was going to stir a pissed-off scorpion or horribly big and poisonous spider. After an excessive amount of sweat and dirt the patio was shining and plants were in full bloom, all remnants of dead leaves and dust storms removed. I wake up this morning and as I am putting on my running shoes I spot a grasshopper(?) just kickin' it on the end table in my living room. And I am genuinely and pathetically really freaked out. I take my Spanish textbook and throw it on him twice. I miss. It is still alive and seems to be between the sofa and table now, still alive. I leave on my run with Yorkie & Porkie, hoping I can find it when I get back. 

We come home and he is back to sitting on top of the end table, chillin' in the thrown shade of the failed Spanish book. I stand and stare at Mr. Grasshopper(?) for a while, considering my options. I could not just leave him there, able to run all over and even get ON ME! Besides it was big and I was only really guessing it is a grasshopper. It could be a flying roach or miniature bat for all I know. Heaven knows I had never seen a living dinosaur before my encounter with the Javelina's! So I decide I don't actually have to kill it. I can just contain it. I stand near it with an empty plastic container for a while and in a sudden rush of bravery, brought on by convincing myself I could shoot an intruder if in mortal danger, I slam the plastic jar over the grasshopper(?). Phew, he is contained! The book goes on top of the plastic container and there he will sit until my husband comes home from work. I do frequently peak in as to his whereabouts whenever I pass by, though.

Now however lame or stupid an analogies this is, it gave me a thought. HOW BAD DO YOU WANT IT? How badly do you want to reclaim your life? How much maneuvering and trying and succeeding and failing are you willing to do? How much will you fight, if pushed to the bottom? How much will you challenge, if you find your way to the top? Fibromyalgia is a horrible illness. I was disabled  and broken and had absolutely no view of the horizon, the end of the abyss. I cried and screamed, throbbed in pain and zoned on the television for years, barely able to keep a storyline straight in my head. I found the start of my journey and tripped and fell as I struggled a million times just to stand up and take one step on that road. And my life is a million times better now. Hardest thing I ever did. I found strength I never even dreamed I had. So yes this morning as I explained my exploits with the grasshopper(?) on the phone to my husband he roared with laughter. What was so funny? "Honey, you can beat a debilitating disease, but you can't kill a grasshopper?" he struggled out through choked laughter. Touche my friends. Touche.