266. When the Shoe Drops

Bad things happen all the time. But if we sit around and think about the negativity that might be coming our way, we forget to notice the good things in front of us now. A listener shares a poem she wrote that addresses this feeling.

Transcripts may not appear in their final version and are subject to change.

Jennifer: Hi Nora and team. When I read the Sunday Dreads from February 11th title, Let Future You Figure It Out, I knew I had to share something with you.  The second to last sentence read, I will be there for future me when and if the other shoe drops.  Well, a day before I got that Sunday Dreads, someone in one of my chronic illness support groups posed the question, what would be the title of your autobiography?

Without hesitation, I responded, the other shoe, as I feel like I’ve had the other shoe dropped so much of my life that I now live in anticipation and apprehension of the next time it happens. After reading that Sunday Dreads, I said out loud, Okay, universe, I get it.  Then I sat down and wrote a poem that just flowed out of me and reminded me that I am strong and it will be okay.

I wanted to share this poem with you and say thank you for creating this space where I not only feel less alone, but also feel hopeful that it is going to be okay. I’ve survived 100 percent of my bad days living with a chronic illness so far, and that’s both a victory and a reminder that I’m going to be okay. 

The Other Shoe by Jennifer Klinner  The other shoe, not the one Cinderella wore, the one that made her dreams come true. Not the shoe she scrambled to find to go spend a perfect day with her childhood best friend.  Not the shoe so carefully picked out to walk down the aisle for what should have been right, but ended so wrong. 

The other shoe is the one that dropped, the one that sent her to the floor, curled up in a ball. Crying so hard she thought she might die.  The other shoe is hearing the words, I don’t know how to help. I don’t know how to fix it.  The other shoe is the one that still echoes so loudly in the silence of her life now. 

The echo of the life that she had, the life that is gone.  The other shoe, the one Cinderella wore, what if it broke and life didn’t work out? But she picked up the shards, glued them together with Rumpelstiltskin’s gold.  Took the first step, so scared that the shoe wouldn’t hold. One tiny step, then two, then three.

Moving forward, alone, scared and unsure.  Then two steps more. Moving forward now strong in the faith that this shoe once broken would hold.  Whatever the perils and trials ahead, the shoe would not fail her, not break, let her down.  It would carry her forward to a future unknown, finding strength in the knowledge that when the shoe dropped, she survived, fixed the shoe, and kept living. 

Finding strength in the knowledge that she would survive if on down the road. The other shoe dropped.  Thank you, Nora, so much for this space.  Bye.