Another installment of A Girl, A Goblin, and An Evil Spell, and The Wizard's Potions
The girl was prone to reflecting back to that fateful night when the goblin visited her all those years ago. She was desperately trying to remember the exact night of the visit, but because of the goblin's slyness, she couldn't really be sure when he came.
She supposed it didn't really matter precisely when he came, but she really wanted to know why he decided to visit her. She didn't ponder this question in a “why me, poor me” kind of way, rather, it was more like a “what is the reason you chose to visit me, why are these things going on inside of me, was I predisposed to be visited” kind of way.
One day, she posed the question to the wizard. “Why do you suppose the gremlin visited me? I'm not special; I'm not a threat to be stopped” she said.
“You will drive yourself insane asking those questions. In truth, there is no answer. Why does the tornado choose the path it does? Why do some snowflakes land on your tongue and not others? Why do some flowers bloom before others? Why does a bird choose to build its nest in one tree over another? Best not to ask why, when the only answer is because” he replied.
Still, the girl couldn't help but wonder why. Why did the spell affect her one way, but it affected someone else in a different way? She tried to follow the wizard's advice the best she could, to stop asking questions that have no answers, but occasionally, found herself falling down that rabbit hole.
The girl would wonder why the wizard's potions didn't work for her, but others had great success with them. She wondered why some days were so easy for her, and why some days were so hard. She wondered why sometimes she felt as though her brain was humming like a colony of bees, yet other days, she would leave the house without shoes.
Every so often, she would daydream about finding the gremlin, and asking him all of these questions. She imagined entire conversations in her head, which was absolutely ludicrous because she had no idea how he would answer any of her questions. Or if he would bother answering any of her questions. If he would even acknowledge her at all, or remember her, for that matter. And how would she know she had the right gremlin? She would chastise herself for giving in to flights of fancy. Sometimes the girl's head was a busy and confusing place. She tried not to go inside there too often.
Still, through it all, the ups and downs, the struggles and ease, she did her best to maintain her positive outlook. She may never be cured, but she still had a lot of living to do. If that meant fighting battles with her body sometimes, so be it. It's just what she had to do. She would not go quietly; she would not surrender.
Oh sure, on particularly rough days, she would get mad, or sad, or frustrated. After all, she was a mere mortal, just like you and me. The lie she told herself is that it would be better tomorrow. Just get through today, and it will be better. Funny thing was, it wasn't always a lie. More often than not, it was the truth. After some time, she discovered she felt better when she didn't stay sad or mad. She felt better when she felt happy. She said it out loud like it was some great epiphany. When I feel positive, I feel better.
After that realization, she tried in earnest to look at things with a different outlook; she tried to find the positive in the negative. She still had good days and less-than-stellar days, but she didn't call them bad days anymore. Sometimes things went wrong, but she tried not to make that her focus. She would focus on what went right.
She realized that if the gremlin hadn't visited her, she might not have learned the art of appreciation and positivity. You see, when things are going perfectly fine, it's easy to overlook all the good stuff. It's easy to forget to appreciate the little things because there are so many big good things. When you slowly have things taken from you, you learn to appreciate what you have, what you've learned. When you're forced to slow down, you can look around and see all that you have left, rather than what's gone. On really good days, she doesn't notice what's gone. On other days, she grieves for what's gone. She gives herself permission to feel sad, but she doesn't give herself permission be sad. She feels there is a small but important distinction.
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