What’s the opposite of grace?
I put spiritual grace above most things. I like to endure hardships (if I must) with grace and an open heart. So why is it that, physically, I am the opposite of grace-filled?
My body has been taking a beating so far in this short year. A couple of weeks ago, I slammed into a railing in the courtyard, putting an enormous, deep, long-lasting bruise on my upper arm. Last night, I not only arrived late for the screening (something that already had me unhappy, seeing as being late is about the rudest thing I can think of), but I slammed my wrist into a column on the wall. Hard. Talk about making an entrance!
So, I’m already feeling self-conscious and too fat to go out in public among the cute Hollywood people and I arrive late and make everyone in the room look at me as soon as I walk in, by hitting the wall so hard. Fine. Breathe. Enjoy the movie. Love the performances. Soak in the happy feelings of having put together another amazing cast. So, the movie’s over and I walk out of our row and into the aisle. I’m hugging a couple of the actors, thanking them for making me look good, and then I step back to introduce Keith. As I step back, my heel goes off the step and down I go, backwards, all the way down the stairs and flat on my ass, then shoulder, then head. I land and squeal, “Wheeee!” It’s the only thing I could think of.
Now, my mom had what she called an “embarrassment karma” issue. She would muster up all of the courage it took to go out in public and then find a way to embarrass herself once there. I thought about that, as I remained on the floor, gathering up the shards of my pride before attempting to stand again. Ugh. Nothing so humiliating as an ego smackdown.
But I’m human, and accidents happen, and I moved forward with grace (I hope) to make up for the lack of grace I have, physically.
But I’m left thinking about Mom and her issues. I’m left wondering why I’m beating myself up so much right now and whether I’m simply externalizing the self-loathing that exists within or I’m attempting to break myself down to slow the progress I’m facing on other levels. Like maybe I don’t deserve my career success? Or the amazing relationships I’ve developed? What on Earth could this be about?
Hell, maybe I’m just a klutz. But I like to look at life a little more deeply than that. Blame Charlsie. Mom could analyze a freckle on a flea. *sigh* I don’t know. I’m conflicted. And I’m dressing in bubble wrap from here on out.