I fought with him again last night, and I lost.
I lost my temper.
I got angry. Really angry. When I didn’t want to be.
I hate losing! I want to win too! (maybe not always, but just sometimes?)
So I retreated into bed feeling lousy. Feeling like a loser. Feeling terrible.
Nursing my wounds. Feeling sorry for myself. Until sleep knocked me out.
Does it matter who won and who lost in the fight? Not when I woke up, no it doesn’t matter now.
The sun continues to rise up from the east, the hours continue marching forwards, and life goes on. And I did manage to wake up to another day. What more can I ask?
Maybe it’s not about winning or losing.
Have we fought the good fight, and have we learnt when and how to let go?