As I sit down to write this, I am procrastinating going on a run. So far, it’s working great!
Fast forward to three hours later. . .
It dawned on me when I sat down to write this morning that if I could create time to write, I could surely get my butt out there to run. I would probably write better after a head-clearing run anyways, so I got dressed, procrastinated a little more, then finally leashed up my dogs and headed out. I figured I would warm up by walking them and then head back out for a couple more miles.
When I walk my dogs I like to take them to a trail that runs behind the nearby creek– it’s only three blocks from my house. My dogs drag me down the streets until we get to the trail where they know…
My journey to a healthier me began years ago, somewhere in the decade of my 30’s. It wasn’t until 2012 though, at the age 42, that I finally worked up the courage to face myself and get down to business. I was literally out of excuses on why I was so fat and physically unhealthy. I was grossly overweight and in was total denial about my about the state of my overall health. The only thing I had going for me at the time was my mental health. I had done some hard work over the years and was finally comfortable being inside my own head. I had long since grown from a place where I felt unworthy of being happy and healthy to wondering why I ever attached my weight (among other things) to my self-worth in the first place.
Fast forward to almost four years later, and I barely remember my old self. Sometimes I see the old me in pictures and wonder who the hell that person was yet I no longer berate myself (something I would have done at one time) for letting my health spiral out of control. I know exactly why I ended up in such a physically unhealthy state and I know exactly what it took to climb out of that hole of unhealth. I am grateful for having the strength, the courage, and the support of an amazing tribe to do it. And to keep doing it. A journey to better health isn’t one with an ending, it’s a constant trek–one that is full of twists and turns, peaks and valleys, and often times, rest stops along the way.
What I have learned along my journey over the years has been incredible, but perhaps the most important thing I have learned came earlier in 2015 when I was introduced to the art of celebrating, not my successes mind you, but my failures. Yes, I have learned to celebrate the times in which I suck, and unfortunately that is quite often. I have learned that it is not whether we reach our goals, instead, it is how we celebrate along the way, even when our journeys aren’t going the way we planned. We can wallow in our failures or celebrate them, learn from them, and ultimately move on. Thankfully, I am learning to celebrate. Although 2015 marked a year of many failures for me (many successes as well), I want to share two of my bigger “flops” with you in hopes that you can learn to celebrate the times when your journey heads down a path you weren’t expecting.
2015 marked the second year in a row that I did not lose any weight, and it is not from a lack of trying. Zero pounds. ZERO! I am still roughly 25 pounds from my goal weight and have been for the last two years. TWO YEARS! Last year at this time I was wallowing in the fact that I had failed to lose weight for an entire year. This year? I am celebrating the fact that I have learned to maintain my weight because you see, even though I have lost zero pounds, I haven’t gained any either. That’s right. Zero weight gain. ZERO! For those of you that have been on the weight-loss roller coaster, you know the significance of weight-loss maintenance. For that, I celebrate.
2015 also marked a significant event in my journey–the first time I failed to complete a race. It was a big one, my first 50k, and I fell flat on my face. Literally. I hit the ground so hard I was surprised I didn’t bounce back up like a weeble-wobble. After a few seconds, I managed to get up and brush myself off. Other than my ego being a bit bruised I thought I was physically okay until a few minutes later when some aches and pains began to creep in. (Up until the point of my fall my body was relatively pain free and I quickly began to realize that what I was feeling was injury from my fall.) I kept going but as time wore on I realized my injuries were worse than I initially thought. With just under 18 miles to go at that point in the race, I had a big decision to make. . . trudge on at whatever pace I could muster, risking further injury and a prolonged recovery that could keep me from running for quite some time, or drop at the next aid station (which was still four miles away.) I slowly made it to the next aid station, waited for about 10 minutes as I lamented my pending failure, and then officially dropped from the race. A million thoughts rushed through my head about being a quitter, thoughts that included words like loser, wuss, and failure. But that train of awful thought didn’t last long as quickly I began to think of how far I had come in my journey. 3.5 years prior to that point, I could not run more than a couple of blocks. Now, I had just ran 17, smashing my previous PR for this distance by 15 minutes. And other than the pain from my injuries, my body as a whole felt great. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would say I felt great after running 17 miles. Most importantly though, I learned that the health of my body is more important than a finisher’s medal. For all of those reasons, I celebrate!
I have many other failures from the past year that I have reframed and subsequently celebrated. The celebratory lens I now have to view my journey through has given me a renewed strength to continue on my path towards better health in 2016. Do I ever plan to fail or settle for mediocrity? NO! But will I wallow when things don’t go the way I hoped they would? NO WAY! Wallowing is a word that is no longer in my vocabulary. In 2016, I plan to celebrate every failure and then move on from there–growing, learning, and refocusing on new goals.
As you look back over your own fitness journey what failures can you reframe as successes? What about going forward? Will you go a little easier on yourself when things don’t go the way you planned? Cheers to you and a Happy New Year! Vow to celebrate wildly in 2016!
This goes out to every single person that is missing someone they love. . .
Today is my niece’s birthday. She is 12. And today she is partying in Heaven with her mom and grandma, just like she has been since 2012 after a drunk driver cut their lives on earth short.
I wish I was writing this to tell you that three years later life is grand and that I rest comfortably in the fact that three of the people that I love the most are celebrating wildly and beautifully in Heaven. Every. Single. Day. Somedays, that is true. In fact, even as I write this through blinding tears on the most painful of days, I know in my heart that it is true. They live on in the most glorious of places. But just because something is true and beautiful, doesn’t mean that it does not SUCK. As much as I will be celebrating my niece today (in fact it started yesterday when I drug my bestie to the bakery for cake) I will also be glaringly reminded of the fact that my niece is not here celebrating with the rest of us. The scab gets ripped off, so painfully at times, and today is definitely one of those days.
But today, like everyday, life goes on. . . the world around us often seeming oblivious to the searing pain that losing people we love brings. At one time in my life, I would have been one of those oblivious souls. “It’s been a year (or two, or three) you should be over it by now.” Or maybe I would have said, “Maybe you need therapy or something, you shouldn’t be STILL grieving after all this time.” Or maybe I would have tossed out some meaningless platitude reminding the person that their loved one is now “better off” or that they are in a “better place.” Wow, I know so much better now. Grief doesn’t end after a certain amount of “socially appropriate” time that the world allots. People will do all they can to avoid talking about grief because its uncomfortable, and messy, and really, who wants to talk about death anyways, right? And that is okay. I get it. I don’t want to talk about it either. But not talking about death and grief doesn’t make the hurt go away nor does it lessen the pain. If anything, it may make grieving persons question their sanity. “Should I be ‘over this’ by now? Is there something wrong with me?”
The answer to that is NO. In fact, it’s a HELL NO. Whatever you are feeling right now is probably normal. To all of you missing someone, whether you lost them today or 50 years ago, know this. . .
You are not alone. Ever. There is a massive tribe of beautiful grieving folks out there. Seek them out and bask in the comfort that being with other grieving persons brings.
Grief makes no sense. You will have good days. You will have AMAZING days. Then suddenly, as if out of the blue, you will have a terribly awful and insanely painful day. A smell, a sound, a song, a memory can bring you to your knees. Grief is like that. It creeps up and punches you in the gut when you least expect it. You suddenly find yourself gasping for air wondering what the hell just happened. (Yes, even years later. And , yes that is okay, see above, you are probably normal.)
Grief has no time limit. Don’t ever let anybody tell you it does. But also know that life really does go on and wehave to figure out how to go along with it–even if it drags us along as we are kicking and screaming.
Also know this . . . it is okay to celebrate life, even after excruciatingly painful loss.Life, even with the pain, is too beautiful and short to not live it. (You may not be there yet. And that is okay but always look for the littlest of things to celebrate. It helps. More than you can imagine. Buy birthday candles and light them often.)
Breathe. And then breathe some more. Purposefully take a deep breath. Do it again and again. And then do it some more.
So today, on my niece’s birthday, I will celebrate. I will cry happy tears and sad ones. I will lament over how unfair life is yet I will still figure out how to celebrate it–one gloriously painful beautiful moment at a time. And I will not be alone in this tearful celebration of life and death. To all of you missing someone right now, my heart and soul are with you as I know yours is with mine.
Happy Birthday Jules! I love you. Party on in Heaven little angel. Party on. We miss you like crazy.
This morning, I sucked at life, or at least I thought I did. Thankfully, it was a temporary suckfest that all started when I didn’t follow through with my original morning plan.
I told my husband the night before that I HAD to get up when he did. HAD TO. I wanted to get my run in for the day before the sweltering heat returned. I told him no matter what I said to him in the morning that he should make sure that I get out of bed. He should not listen to any excuses that I may offer on why I am not ready to get out of bed. (And for the record, I am fully aware that it is nobody else’s responsibility but my own, to get out of bed. But that’s beside the point, right?)
Well, the time to arise came and went. When he finally reminded me that I said I was getting up with him so I could run and that the time had definitely passed, I told him that I was going to run later and that I already knew I was going to be sorry that I wasn’t up yet because the heat was going to suck. He replied, “Well, as long as you know.” (Perfect answer, honey, perfect answer.)
I reset my alarm. A full hour and a half and three snooze button hits later, I rolled out of bed. I had already decided it was going to be a “bun” day for my hair so I wouldn’t need much time to get ready, which was good, because the three snooze hits had really set me back. Then the suck began to snowball. . .
The bun didn’t work. What I had planned to wear didn’t work either. I poured too much milk in my coffee, and I had already started the defeatist self-talk that went a little something like this. . .
“Why didn’t you get out of bed and run? You are lazy. What is wrong with you?”
Which progressed to . . .
“That shirt looks terrible on you and shows your rolls. Yuck, start working harder on your weight loss!”
And kept going. . .
“Why do you have a closet full of clothes that make you look terrible? You supposedly had that all figured out. You need to get better organized.”
And so it went. Two pairs of pants, two hair-dos, six shirts, and three pairs of shoes later I was finally ready to head out the door, a full half-hour later than I needed to be. At least I was dressed and out the door, right?
At some point during the fiasco of the morning, I stopped the madness to check the time, which at that time should have been the time that I was leaving work but I was not yet dressed nor did I have hair that was anywhere near work ready. It was at that point that I said, “WTF, YOU SUCK AT LIFE!” And at the time, I believed it. Dramatic, I know. Ridiculous, yep. Nonetheless, I had went there and it really hadn’t taken that long, after all, I’d only been out of bed for a short time. Suck sure multiplies quickly if you let it.
I sat in that yuck for a minute or two and then took a breath and began to shake it off. I thought for a minute about the struggles that I had this morning and realized pretty quickly that it was no surprise that I had ended up in a mini mental suckfest. Life has been a little bit more intense than normal for me the last couple of weeks. This morning’s meltdown was simply the by-product.
For starters, there have been some big personal and professional happenings in my life, all good thankfully, but these goings on have zapped my energy. All of that has added stress to the usual amount of life stress. The added stress has taken a toll on me mentally. To add to all of that is the constant ebb and flow of grief in my life, which right now, of course, is flowing like a raging river. To top it off, I am trying really hard to cut excess sugar from my diet and to actually follow a running training plan, both of which are new for me. After reflecting, I realized pretty quickly that I did not suck at life (which I knew) but I was simply having a tough morning, which was the result of a few tough weeks. I took a deep breath and focused on the things I was grateful for (at the moment I was grateful that I had a closet full of clothes that fit me so I had options during my meltdown) and extended myself some grace for my shortcomings.
By the time I finally got my butt out the door, my mind was racing. I am a physically, mentally (although not this morning, obviously), and spiritually healthy person with an amazing support system and a stable life. My life is really good and yet I STILL struggle sometimes. Soon, my thoughts wandered to those times in my life that I have not been in a good place. A morning like this could well have triggered some really yucky emotional stuff that could have quickly spiraled out of control. Then, I thought about all of the people that struggle with this every day that are maybe not in a good place. What do they do when they can’t escape the suckiness?
I kept thinking about it while on my commute and soon realized that no matter where you are or what you have going on in your life, there is always a way out of the suck-fest. I promise you that if you mindfully practice the following, you may begin to see the light at the end of the suck.
To begin with, BREATHE. Yes, BREATHE. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, hold it in, then exhale forcefully. Repeat this. Again, and again and again. Then repeat some more. Eventually you will begin to feel calmer. When you are calm, you can think more clearly which creates space for reflection. Besides, breath is a life-giving force, literally. Use it your advantage.
Next, with your newfound clarity, take a moment to REFLECT. Why are you thinking the way that you are? Any changes in your life recently? What is your stress level? Have you been practicing self-care? By taking the time to reflect on the happenings in your life, you should be able to figure out why you are feeling the way you are right now. Be honest with yourself and you will be able to gain some clarity.
After that, take a hardcore GRATITUDE check. The absolute quickest way to get yourself out of a funk is to make a list of all the things in your life that you have to be grateful for. Gratitude is the antidote to self-pity and every single one of us has something to be grateful for. If you can’t think of anything to put on your list, start with this. . . be thankful you have the ability to read this, that you have access to the internet, and that you are breathing.
Lastly, learn the meaning of the word GRACE. Life is hard, so hard sometimes! Most of us though, are doing the best we can with what we have been given. We can’t always choose what happens to us in life but we can choose how we respond to what does. Start by choosing to go easy on yourself. We are all human and we all struggle. Practice showing grace to yourself first and then learn to extend it to others. Eventually, you will find that grace is pretty amazing.
If all else fails, B-R-E-A-T-H-E again and remember that this day is only 24 hours long. You can get through it. For the next few hours, give yourself to permission to sit in your suck and then vow to begin the next day with a fresh perspective. Breathe in the good and breathe out the suck. Sleep it off, and the next day, start anew. Life is just too short and amazing to let it be otherwise.
Update July 29, 2015: When I originally wrote this, I was sure I was ready to move on and start fresh in a new blog. Well, I guess I lied. I’m really not going anywhere. This place has too much of me poured into these pages to ever let it go. I was and will always be Hanging by a Thread. ~Melissa
This is a rambling, a jumble of words, a see-ya-later-but-not-really.
They say all good things must come to end, and so to must this blog.
When I began Hanging by a Thread in January of 2012 I was a different person, one that had done the work and was ready to take charge of her life.
Little did I know that the title of my blog would become an aching metaphor for life. . .
And now I have come to a crossroads. . .
A season of major life changes, a season of loss, a season of finding me–is slowly fading.
I can feel it in my bones.
What is next?
I have no clue. . . only visions in my head of where the path is leading.
Visions placed there by the whispers of my soul.
It feels like a settling in, of heading where I am being called, of finding the courage to share with my whole heart what life’s journey has taught me over the years.
And even though I am ready to take the leap, to dive headfirst into the deep end–it is scary.
But in a good way, I think.
It’s a new season.
A new day dawning.
I have felt it for a while now.
But it takes courage, both to let go and to move forward.
And sometimes courage is hard to muster. Really hard.
It is easier to just stay where we are at because it’s comfortable. It’s safe.
Then I remember that comfort and safety are really just illusions anyways.
I wrote this a while back and just found it the other day. I don’t even really remember writing it. It was one of those thoughts that popped into my head and I recorded it on the spot. I knew it was a perfect snapshot of where I was at, of where I am, and of where I am heading.
Change is coming again. I can feel it. I don’t know exactly what it will be, even though I have an inkling. I have learned to be okay with not knowing. I have learned to trust, even though I wonder. I have learned to be patient, even though I’m not wired that way. I have learned that even though I know the change will be amazing, it will be hard. It always is. Growth and change and healing are like that. They don’t call them growing pains for nothing.
I have learned to trust, even though I wonder . . . luckily my middle name is faith.
It’s what has gotten me through, given me hope, and brought me home.
Even though this blog is ending, I am not done writing.
I don’t know exactly what it will be. In fact, there isn’t even anything there. And even though I don’t exactly know what it will be yet, the words real and raw come to mind–kind of like a conversation with those that know me best. A space where authenticity, tolerance, grace, and love are welcomed . . .
Thank you all for your encouragement and love over the past few years. I thank God for each and every one of you.
Thank you to all who have shared my tears, watched me come undone, and stayed by my side through the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And lastly, thank you to those that have remained through the brokenness and the beautiful of this journey.
“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different…” – C.S. Lewis
A friend of mine posted these words on her Facebook page yesterday. The words struck me. I couldn’t help but think how absolutely perfect this powerful quote was as we close out the old year and welcome a new one.
As I then began to reflect on 2014, I thought about how I don’t really feel any different that I did a year ago. Except, that I do.I KNOW that I am a different person. You cannot go through a year of dancing and not emerge a different soul. It’s impossible. Even though I am sitting on the same sofa, probably in the same jammies, doing the same thing I did last January 1, my life is so completely different now that it would take days to explain. For me, 2014 was the year of the dance–the one of joy and grief. Old paths intersecting with new ones as the journey of life danced on. . . whether I was ready for it or not.
As I was reflecting, I remembered a blog post, (one of way too many that I had started and never finished in 2014) one that sheds some light on the dance.
It is like a dance really. . .
The one of joy and grief.
Some days, it’s like a lively Irish jig–the back and forth of emotions moving as quickly as a river dancers feet. Joy and grief simultaneously morph into something so mind-blowing that I have yet to find the words to adequately describe.
Then some days, the dance, well, it’s more like a graceful waltz. Joy and grief moving together as beautifully as they possibly could given the circumstances that brought these two emotions together in the first place.
And still other days, it’s like the mosh pit of a punk rock concert. Out of control and coming at you full force, like the beat of a thousand drums pounding at you until you just want to run away forever. But you can’t. You can’t escape a mosh pit. You are stuck until music ends.
And that’s the dance of joy and grief.
When you are missing people who you loved like crazy, the dance is always there.
But, life goes on–it doesn’t stop because we are grieving. Joyful moments intersecting with painful ones. One unable to exist without the other. And just as you are beginning to find a familiar groove, a new dance suddenly begins. Jigging, waltzing, moshing. The dance is there waiting to remind you that even though life is good–so very good-–there is a hole in your heart so big that it’s impossible to fill. Those days are mosh pit days. And I am not a fan.
And so it went. And so it goes. Raw becomes real. As the numbness of the first year after loss began to fade, year two slowly became a dance. A very painful one. My old life constantly intersecting with the new. Well worn paths and new ones forged–colliding, over and over and over. The dance became one of clinging ever so tightly while slowly letting go–like you are hanging onto the edge of a cliff and one by one your fingers are slowly slipping. . .
It’s almost like a cha-cha now.
And instead of dancing in the rain. . .
I dance through tears–the ones of joy and grief.
Somewhere along the line, I learned that you make the choice to stay and dance or you choose to leave the party. You choose to jig, waltz, and cha-cha through the ups and downs of life, or you choose to stay stuck in the mosh pit, even after the music has ended and the crowd has gone home.
I choose to stay and dance–sometimes, like no one is watching.
And I’m glad.
Because even though the dance is exhausting, and painful, and messy, it’s also beautiful and joyous, and worth every crazy, aching moment.
To all of my friends and family that have danced with me in 2014. . .
I thank you and I love you.
Good-bye 2014 and hello 2015.
I can only imagine the new dance steps I will learn.
Maybe it was a pre-emptive strike on the pending holiday season. Maybe it was because I needed some focus to get through the next month without having a hater-induced meltdown. Or maybe it was something entirely different, but the other night I jotted a December “To-Do” list in my journal–not generally what I jot in my journal, simply for the fact that I am NOT a fan of to-do lists. To-do lists often cause undo angst. For example, isthere anything on your to-do list right now that will cause the sun not to rise tomorrow if you don’t complete the task? I didn’t think so. The world will not end if your floors are not scrubbed or your holiday baking doesn’t get done. Enough said. Moving on!
Lately I have been thinking a lot about the holiday season, especially since the Christmas ware hit the store shelves (it gets earlier every year) before the Halloween pumpkins were out of the field. The Facebook memes soon followed. It all makes me really uncomfortable mostly because the holiday season brings out the worst in people and society–especially Christians, especially in the United States.
We freak out because somebody says “Happy Holidays” to us instead of “Merry Christmas” yet we walk by homeless people like they don’t exist. We rant and rave about putting “Christ back into Christmas” yet we trample each other, literally, on Black Friday for a deal on something we probably already have 10 of at home. We stuff our faces with food and drink from Thanksgiving until the New Year yet our neighbors go hungry. We sit in church pretending to do unto others yet hateful words directed at those who are different from us spew from our lips, sometimes even while we are still in the pews. To sum it all up, we use Christianity to justify our worst human behaviors and in the process we become self-righteous a@@holes. Merry Christmas everyone!
Eat. Drink. Be Merry.
Spend. Spend. Spend.
We proclaim. . .
“Jesus is the reason for the Season.”
Yet, we fail–time and time again–to serve our fellow man.
We fail to serve others because their of skin color, or because they are gay, or Muslim, or Atheist, or in prison, or an addict, or mentally ill, or homeless, or poor. . . Hate, fear, and ignorance get all jumbled together and before we know it we’re deeply offended because somebody had the audacity to greet us with a Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas yet people all around us are hurting and messed up and we don’t seem to care. Love one another? Sure, as long as you are just like me.
I say its about time we ALL get over ourselves and act the Christians we proclaim to be. After all, it’s easy to buy a cup of coffee for the next person in line at Starbucks but what about buying a cup of coffee for the homeless person standing on the street corner?
You see, from the time the first Christmas light twinkled on a store shelf mid-October to the first meme that reared its ugly head on social media, I have been irritated, frustrated, and angry. I have found myself unfriending, unfollowing, and complaining about anyone that even came remotely close to displaying their self-righteous Christian attitudes and behaviors about anything (and there has been a whole lotta hate spewing around lately), especially Christmas.
Until. . .
I realized that I was being a self-righteous a@@hole towards the self-righteous a@@holes. UGH! I was justifying my self-righteous a@@hole hater behavior with my belief that good Christians don’t act the way the self-righteous a@@hole haters were, so therefore it was okay for me to hate on them.
But wait. . .
That’s really not what being a Christian is all about, is it. Besides, I don’t want to be a hater, even to haters because hate, and fear, and ignorance take up space that could be filled with love, and grace, and kindness. And love, and grace, and kindness are essential to putting Christ back into Christmas. UGH, UGH. Hating haters is so much easier than loving them, or extending grace, or being kind. But then again I don’t remember anyone ever saying being a Christian was supposed to be easy. UGH, UGH, UGH.
As I have said a million times before, when you know better, you do better. Me blogging about self-righteous a@@holes will not change them or put Christ back into Christmas–but me, changing myself? That might make a difference for someone. After all, the only person we can truly ever change anyways is ourself. By making changes in my heart, I can hope that the ripple effects change someone else, and in turn change someone else, and so on, and so on, and so on. . .to infinity and beyond.
When I finally got over myself (which I am pretty good at because I have to do it often) I made my to-do list. My list is short but challenging to me. For those of you that know me well, you know which “dos” on the list will challenge me the most. Some of you will probably snort with laughter like the hub did. You better sit down before you read it.
Anyways, the list went into effect December 1. So far, I’ve been doing pretty good, but it’s early in the month, Christmas is coming, and change is so hard! I have vowed, though, to do the following every day–either until the changes are so ingrained in me that they become innate or until this list kills me. At this point, it could go either way. So, here goes!
This holiday season (drumroll please) I vow to:
DO KINDNESS. Yes, that means to self-righteous a@@holes, to people that are different than me, and to strangers, and to my friends, and to my family, and to myself. Kill ’em with kindness, they say. (Ironically, this may be the one that kills me.)
DO SELF-CARE. For me this means hydrating, drinking green smoothies, running, and trying to get enough sleep. It is only when you practice self-care that you can serve others to the best of your abilities. Putting your mental and physical health needs aside is plain foolishness. You CANNOT take care of anyone else if you choose not to take care of yourself. Don’t be a self-care martyr. Just don’t. Period.
DO GOOD DEEDS. For others, for myself, for the planet, for whatever “doing good” means that day–even if what I need to do makes me uncomfortable. (Like being kind to self-righteous a@@holes.)
DO SPEND WISELY. This means my time and my money. Consequently, I have vowed NOT to buy myself ANYTHING material until the New Year. (That is the part where the hub nearly lost it.) Yes, that means clothes, shoes, purses, makeup, and the like. I have more than enough. I plan to do something good with the saved time and money.
Will my to-do list move mountains and end all the hate in the world? Of course not. Will a trend of actually putting Christ back into Christmas sweep the nation as we all set aside our differences and do unto others? Nope. Not even close. But will my to-do list make me a better person? Yep. Will my to-do list make the world a better place for somebody else? It already has.
P.S. And as an added holiday bonus, there is currently one less self-righteous a@@hole in the world. Well, at least for this holiday season anyways. Maybe to-do lists are good for something after all.