Corners to Turn; Corners to Cut

Working our way out of a difficult time doesn't seem ever to feel the same way twice.  On this one, first, I thought - at last, that challenge was in my rear view mirror.  I could happily move on, prance on, skip on, and leave it in the past, or at minimum, leave it to grow ever smaller.  The problem with rear view mirrors is that the object/issue/crap is still visible.  Depending on your pace, it may be visible for quite some time.  And visible is not helpful, at least for me.  It enables me stubbornly to hang on, to continue to believe it to be fixable,  to believe that I am the Fixer.  The line between optimism and hubris blurs.

Then, I turned a corner.  That is more jubilant, more liberation.  Turning a corner leaves no visible remnants -  the crap is left behind on some other sorry street, even if it's a sorry street with a vista.  Turned.  Gone. Left.

Those emotional corners can't be cut.  As much as we would like to accelerate that turn, we cannot.   Time is friend and foe.   There was no emotional corner-cutting available for me, not on this one.  No matter how tired of it I had become; no matter how weary I was of its living rent-free in my head; no matter how aware I was of its futility.  Corner could not be cut; return to emotional health could not be hurried.  No tools created a shortcut; at times, it seemed like the longest, slowest turn. We have to wait, work, cope, work, wait --- then suddenly, finally, there it is ---  the corner to be turned.

Maybe it's because "this one" was several challenges blurred or bound together - imagine the giant ball of string out there in the Midwest somewhere.  (Why are these things always in the Midwest anyway?)  This was tough, this was the heart, both literal and figurative.

Corners were not cut here to be sure. They were labored, pondered, processed; they sat through sadness, anger, disappointment, wistfulness, regret,  hurt, fear, confusion,  and even joy for having known it.  At times, I wondered if I had become hooked on the dark of it, and I am not one to relish or wallow or linger in darkness.  Then, the corner cleared; there it was at last.

Turned.  Said farewell to that sorry ass street.

P. S. Amuse yourself; google "largest ball of string"; there is a lively, spirited debate out there.  Above is actually largest ball of rubber bands; took some license.