Well here it is, my personal interpretation of second chances.
I’ve struggled coming up with an idea from my life. It’s not that I don’t give second chances or that I haven’t been given one. It’s finding one that I feel comfortable telling. I’m not a very trusting person and perhaps that’s the problem. However I has made me realise that trust is what a second chance is all about. It takes a lot of trust to give someone a second chance. If ther is no trust then the second chance won’t work.
Last year, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. If you’d asked me last year what fibromyalgia was, I’d say Latin for royal pain in the backside, but it’s actually a chronic illness. Chronically in pain, chronically tired, chronically hot and cold. That’s me. Chronically ill.
For the first ins in my life I had to trust my body. Trust it wasn’t goin to bend and break against the weight of my expectations. I’ve had to relearn my boundaries and limits. I used to be able to function on three, five, or seven hours of sleep. Four or six hours were simply out of the question. Now it’s twelve hours or no sleep I don’t seem to have an I between amount. I’ve had to learn to cope with short hair. On the plus side, I haven’t had to cope with my jeans judging me because my fingers, crack, grown and seize up when I try to manoeuvre the button on my jeans. I’ve developed a love for my dresses once more but most of all, I’ve discovered a more positive outlook.
Now you may be wondering, thinking this is a nice story but what does it have to do with second chances?
Admittedly, it so far sounds nothing to do with the subject at hand. But it has everything to do with second chances. I could have given up at the first change in medication.
I nearly do, but I didn’t give up.
I could have given up when I had to cut my hair short.
I could have given up when people close to me refused to see I am actually I’ll and told me to stop being lazy.
I didn’t. I had a nap and proved them wrong.
I considered giving up when the department for work and pensions told me I was too ill for work but then told me I was well enough for work.
Yet I didn’t. I cried, tied my hair up, put my gloves on because my hands hurt and then I decided to figure out what to do next.
I may temporarily give up, but every day is a second chance to correct what you did yesterday. Everyday is a second chance to work to your goals. Everyday is a second chance to prove people wrong. Everyday is a second chance for me to find my boundaries and my limits.
If I get it wrong, there is always tomorow.