Letting go … for now

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[Image credit: dan]

Giving up doesn’t always mean you are weak; sometimes it means that you are strong enough to let go.  ~Author Unknown

I have big expectations for 2012.  24 of them, actually.  In my post what have you got to lose?, I mentioned my desire to take deliberate chances, or risks, during the year.  Not one, but many.  For some time now, I’ve been struggling with an important decision.  Although it was by far one of the hardest I’ve had to make pertaining to moving forward with my life, it wasn’t so much the act of doing as opposed to letting go … the relinquishing of a dream until circumstances allow me to wholly live it Someday.   And since a chance is defined as a venture or gamble, luck, fate, destiny or good fortune, I’d like to think my future will shine brighter because I took a chance to let go of one desire — sacrificing  a piece of my heart in the process — while focusing on my more immediate goals.  For now.  If I didn’t believe that, I don’t know if I would have been strong enough to let go.  But it’s when we make these tough choices that we see what we’re truly made of.

Don’t worry about losing.  If it is right, it happens
The Main thing is not to hurry.
Nothing good gets away.  ~ John Steinbeck

Is there a dream you’ve relinquished, either temporarily or permanently, because it just wasn’t the right time to pursue it?

You’re so vain (you think this song is about you)

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[Image credit: Boaz Yiftach]

Although my ankle appeared to be slowly healing since last week’s mishap, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I tried wearing boots to work a couple of days ago.  In my defense, the bruising and swelling had decreased, as well as the limping.  However, apparently the two-and-a-half-inch heeled variety of footwear (with pointed toes that scream Chic!) — and a sprained ankle — do not a (successful) partnership make.  With each agonizing step I took from house to car and from car to office, I winced as my ankle objected to the torture of not only being bound in an Ace bandage, but gagged in a tight pair of faux leather.  Needless to say, I spent most of the morning at my desk for fear of adding insult to injury.  When asked by a co-worker what I had been thinking (clearly I hadn’t) with my choice of footwear, I said my outfit wouldn’t have looked as stylish in tennis shoes (or flats for that matter).  Duh.  The saying pride goes before a fall quickly flashed through my mind and the thought of a longer recovery time — or worse — sent me hobbling home at lunchtime to change out of my boots and into something less fashionable, but a lot more comfortable.  And after the swelling started up again last night, it looks like both my vanity and my trips to the gym need to take a backseat for a bit longer.

How often does your pride get in the way of your well-being?

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