On Doors and Staircases

I was thinking of the times I’ve been of the assumption that doors weren’t open to me or that if they were I wouldn’t know where to find them.

After this weekend (and the last couple of weeks in general), I’ve come to realize I was standing in front of the most important door and looking the other way. Standing there thinking, “Door? What goddamn door? There’s no fucking door here!”

The program I’m taking is interesting, but really the biggest value of it has been that the difficulties with it (in terms of what I’ve had to learn, the hours I’ve had to put in, and the miserable assholes who have created other hassles for me) have combined to deliver a cold-cocking punch to the shoulder that has spun me around and while I might have been knocked down briefly, I lifted my head to find myself actually facing the door this time.

And it was wide open.

And on the other side of the door is the staircase that leads to where I truly want to be (I say staircase because I hate ladders and always feel like I’ll fall off them). And it turns out that when I got sucker-punched and knocked down I landed on the first step.

It won’t be easy to climb those stairs, but I’m on them and I know what I have to do now to get up them.