Image via Pixabay
In life, you can bend, you can break, or you can stretch.
For most of my life, I’ve been the type to bend. If what I want isn’t what you want, I can and will bend to accommodate. Unfortunately when you bend to much, you forgot how to stand tall.
I’ve only felt broken a time or two, and it’s not something I want to repeat. I’m stubborn in some ways, but not so stubborn that I’m willing to break myself in half.
But then there’s the stretch. It’s the in-between. Stretching doesn’t require full capitulation, and it allows a certain flexibility. I can reach for a thing, and you can reach back, and neither of us has to bend or break to find what works.
I’m in the process of stretching right now…stretching my writing muscles, my career goals, and my knowledge. Fuck all, it’s scary sometimes. The stretch means that you reach for something you never had, you try things you haven’t done before, and you attempt to grow, not knowing if you’ll make it or if you’ll snap back in defeat.
In stretching, there is no guaranteed outcome, and there’s a very good chance you’ll get something wrong.
For all the anxiety and fear stretching causes, it’s also exhilarating, exciting, and thrilling. Because to stretch (towards something or someone) is to say, “What if?” What if I make it? What if this works?