Not For Nothin'

"This week has been a bad massage, I need a happy ending." - Kanye West, "Gorgeous"

It’s only Wednesday, but this week has been a fight. Easily the hardest week I’ve had all year – and I’ve had some tough weeks, so that’s saying something.

Sunday someone cut me off on my way to church. There I was, minding my business, singing along to old school Kirk Franklin – Silver and Gold’ing it all up and through the parkway, and before I know it I’m spinning out across three lanes and slamming into the guardrail facing oncoming traffic. I hit no one. No one hit me. I could have been killed. I should have been. But for grace and mercy, I wouldn’t be around to tell this story. (I'm obviously here for a reason, but that's a post for another day.) Aside from a banged up truck, a coffee-stained and potentially ruined pair of pants, back pain and two broken nails, I’m just fine.

Yesterday I realized that someone I know is hopeless…dangerously set in their ways, leaving little to no room for growth or maturity. Pretty sure he believes he’s some kind of politician, albeit a warped and misguided one, but one nonetheless. Just ask him about his “policy” and you’ll understand. But mostly he’s just offensive and unfortunate, which is more than a little bit sad, because it leaves me with very few options.

AND I sat behind a murderer yesterday. A real one. He killed his wife in front of their daughter. And he laughs in court.

Then today, a thief casually admitted to stealing quite a large sum of money from me. My mother is shocked. Me? Not so much.

Did I mention it’s only Wednesday?

But the point is, that even as I write this, the one thing I don’t feel is anger. My back is screaming at me, I probably should have held off on coming to work for one more day. My stomach is in knots over the anxiety of having to drive back home tonight. My feelings are a little bruised over the reality of the politician; I so badly wish he was a better person, especially since he has so much potential to be. I’d be thrilled if people could stop jacking me for large sums of money. And I would be totally within my right to raise an eyebrow, shake my head, or shed a tear or two.

But there is no anger. No rage. No visual images of doing hood rat things with my friends using blunt metal objects or employing large Italian men known as ‘Vinny the Vaporizer.’ I know that the physical pain will go away eventually, that I’m better than closed-minded, provincially pedestrian nonsense, that justice will be served and the money recovered.

A year ago, two years ago, count back as far as you’d like, I didn’t know this place existed. And if I had known, I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea of how to navigate my way here. And yet, here I am, and it feels amazing. So, snaps for the kid.

Smiles and limps away…my back, remember? ;-)


**Candace Caveat: Since writing this, I've found out that my car is in fact, totaled and not "banged up" as I had originally said. And I just fell down the steps, although clumsiness has always just been my thing. Still, why come the devil is so intent on stealing my joy?! STILL SMILING.**