My Struggles Are Your Struggles

I have this saying written in my office.

Today. If I get a second to breath. I’m gonna erase it.

I’m no longer accepting other people’s struggles.

For the time being.

I’ve only got my struggles. Just mine. How about you keep your struggles. I’ll hold onto mine.


Obviously I don’t actually mean that.

Well…maybe not obviously. But…

I don’t. I don’t actually mean that.

I just. I miss last week’s struggles.

Last week’s struggles were funner struggles. They were just trail struggles. Just mountain trail struggles. Just Winter Break mountain trail struggles.

Like at the Smashdown. When one of the dogs gave me a black eye. Because he was so excited to see me.

When my dad saw my eye he said, “Ok. Whose ass do I have to kick?”

Well, his name is Ruger…

“Damn. Ruger sounds like a badass. Ok. Where do I have to send your sons to kick Ruger’s ass?”

There will be no kicking of Ruger’s ass. Because he’s the sweetest goodest boy. And it was an accident. He was just so excited for cuddles.

Dudes almost never hit me in the face. Because they’re excited for cuddles.

Psht. I wish a mother fucker would…

Or like the time on Christmas Mountain. When I got stuck on the rock. And Everyone’s Favorite Husband had to save me.

Or the second time on Christmas Mountain. When I got stuck on the rock. And Everyone’s Favorite Husband had to save me.

Or later that same day. When I got stuck in the briar patch. With all of my friends just standing there. Watching. I assume waiting for me to make a good choice.

They keep letting me lead shit. On trails I don’t know.

So after GJB led us over to the rock recliner. On Christmas. For his birthday. They all decided to let me lead us back.

Because I happened to be standing closest. To the way back.

Except there’s no actual way.

And I was being pressured to “just go straight ahead, Sunshine.”

And so I went straight.

Except I had to get on my hands and knees. Because nature was impeding the nonexistent “way.”

And I was kind of managing to move forward.

Except there was a briar.

And when I tried to move it to the side. Five more briars popped up, grabbed my hand and said, “no.”

Except I was still trying to make forward progress.

And then 50 more briars popped up. And engulfed me. And said, “shhhhh. Just let it happen.”

And I tried to back out.

Except they had me pretty good. “You are one of us now. Don’t fight it.”

And I was wearing my new clearance sale Eddie Bauer puffy coat. The not orange one. Because the others didn’t tell me it should be orange. When I ordered it.

And so I was processing. Whether to forcibly extract myself and risk just tearing the shit out of it. Or just…live there.

And so I just stopped moving. As the briars gently embraced me.

Which is the point at which Beautiful Beastie voiced something akin to concern. That I was stuck in the briar patch.

While Rogue began a dissertation on oral traditions and folk lore and how well children’s stories do (or do not) age and…

No, it’s fine. I’ll just…be here. On this mountain. For eternity.

I got out.



Because now I’m here. Whining. In written word. About how much I do not want to go into work today.

Because it took all of 38 seconds yesterday morning. The first day back from break. For shit to just spin wildly out of control.

And it just kept spinning. Like all day long.

And every hour. I’d take a new issue to Tina Fey. So she could talk me down. And offer to help.

And Janky Left Pinky Toe. And her person. So they could talk me down. And offer to help.

And so now my struggles are their struggles.

And I think maybe I’ll just edit the saying in my office. Instead of erasing it.

Mi lucha es tu lucha.

My struggles are your struggles.

Fix them.

And give me chocolate.

Leave a Reply