Hey, friend -

About a week after we returned from our latest adventures in Colorado, I noticed George had gone all cattywampus.

George, you may remember, is an electric green tetra I brought home to keep Hemingway company. Rather, he was an electric green tetra.

Allow me to 'splain.

Even if you're not a fishkeeper, you probably know how fish typically swim: dorsal fin to the north, pelvic fins to the south, both eyes facing front.

But on this particular day, I discovered George had listed sideways: right eye scanning the gravel below, left eye gazing heavenward.

"Oh no." I whispered. "George?!"

I reached my hand toward the glass.

*tap tap tap*

Miracle! George righted himself and took a quick lap around the tank, all normal-like. But the moment he stopped paddling his little pelvic fins, George collapsed to the starboard side.

It turns out Google is as an effective veterinarian as it is a physician. That is it say, half the internet assured me George would be fine and the other half predicted imminent death and thus the need for emergency intervention.

Now, I need you to know I care about all living beings (with the notable exception of ticks, which Satan himself breeds and distributes). But, I confess, I did not care enough about this $5 fish to incur a $150 emergency vet bill. Nor did I care enough about him to put him in a "hospital tank" and coax him to ingest a green pea—which, apparently, is an effective treatment for something called swim bladder disease.

Although George eventually succumbed to his ailment, the dude dealt quite nicely with being sideways. He didn't complain (that I know of.) What he did instead was adapt.

To be clear, I'm not now, nor will I ever be, a purveyor of toxic positivity. Sometimes life knocks us cattywampus, and it's perfectly reasonable to complain, wail with grief, and/or float sideways for as long as we need to.

AND (not "but"), I want to remind you how strong you are. (And how loved, too.)

Pep Talk #025: Right yourself.
You have survived every Hard Thing you've experienced. Every challenge. Every knock out. Every disappointment. Every unspeakable thing that's ever happened to you.

So whatever's going on right now? You can survive it, too.

Just follow George's example: Adapt.

Adapt your schedule to make more time for joy.
Adapt your mindset to welcome new experiences.
Adapt your definition of "success" to give yourself a freakin' break.
Adapt your self-talk to be more compassionate.
Adapt your boundaries to protect your time and energy.

Oh, and you're right: Despite how he adapted, George didn't survive. But there's one biiiiiiiig difference between you and him. He didn't/couldn't ask for help. But you can.

Unlike George, you don't have to power through your Hard Thing just hoping some schmuck on the other side of the glass will feed you a damn pea. You can ask for it.

Righting yourself doesn't have to happen BY yourself. You're loved. So when you're listing sideways, lean into that.

You've got this—whatever "this" is,
Kelley

P.S. The only evidence I have of an actual Satan is the existence of ticks.

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