Rhythm of Life

Have you ever heard the saying that someone is “walking to the beat of their own drum”? It seemed to me that it was always used to imply that a person was a little bit odd, a little bit different than what others would consider normal (whatever that is).

Earlier this week, I had a conversation (aka argument) with my fiance about our differences. I explained to him that our individual rhythms were total opposites. His is loud, erratic, and chaotic. Mine is quiet, steady, and orderly.

Naturally, his children follow his beat and I totally get that. It’s just that, at times, I am outnumbered and overwhelmed. Together, their drumbeats are so much louder than my own, and it completely drowns out my peaceful rhythm.

Not being able to hear my own drum causes me to lose my pace, to stumble , and my little private orchestra falls apart.

This does not make for a happy maestro.

This has been one of those weeks. Work has sucked, so let’s just add that to my pile of crap, too. I have been incredibly irritable, short of temper, and a general joy to be around.

He even had the audacity to ask if I was pms’ing, to which I emphatically replied, “NO.”

I’ve got to give the guy credit: he knows how to read me. He was right on that one.

Anyhoo, as my hormones balanced out and I became somewhat rational again, I realized that I can bang my drum just as loud as they can. I decided it was time to get the band back together.

On good days, our rhythms blend to create beautiful music. On bad days, we can make your ears bleed.

But, we still maintain our rhythm. We occasionally have to adjust our steps, skip a beat, and then flow back into the music that is our life. We can each bang away at our drums, so long as we’re mindful of the others in our band.

Every now and then, someone needs a solo and that’s okay. We each deserve a moment in the spotlight.

This, apparently, was my week to be a diva. I pushed, shoved, and elbowed my way to the front. It was not my proudest moment, and I plead temporary insanity.

But, my family banged on, backing up the horrendous piece I played. They wielded their sticks with fervor, trying to keep up with the crazy tune I created.

They really love me.

So, bang away, guys. Swing your arms till they hurt. We’re all listening, ready to join in when we pick up on your unique rhythm. Let’s make some music.

 

 

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