Search Results: take him back

So one of my favorite Olympic sports is Beach Volleyball. I think the uniforms on the women’s team help me appreciate the sport more. This year, I have come to realize that the women’s snowboarders are super cute but basically wear trash bags for uniforms.

They are right up there with gymnasts, beach volleyball and ice skaters in the hotness factor. But their uniforms are basically waterproof bags that seem very restricting. They could do a lot more tricks if their uniforms basically gave them the freedom to do so.

The mens snowboarders though are a bit different as they have a shrinkage problem and such a uniform just wouldn’t work for them but the women can certainly take advantage of it.

What are your thoughts? Should they be free to pursue this key advantage or should the mens issues continue to hold them back from greatness?

I got emotional when I watched a TV show called "Time of death", it follows the last days or months of someone who's terminal. I got emotional as the mom gave her speech in which she expressed how horrible it was to see her son rapidly deteriorate from cancer, and fade away.

It also made me think about my childhood dog, Katie. She ended up getting sicker and sicker as her pancreas started shutting down and she could hardly walk down the stairs. She was my dog from 2007-2020. As previously mentioned, I never fit in, anywhere, Katie was my everything.

I was closer to her than most people are with their siblings, I hated being away from her, and she always howled, cried out and desperately lunged at me every time I left for school. She'd wait by the window for me, jump up, wagging her tail, and as I come in, there was a love seat by the door She'd run up, stand on, and lick me. She'd put her two paws on my shoulders to do it.

When I had surgery and was in the hospital, she refused to leave my room, even to use the bathroom and when I came back, she always cuddled so close to me and I'd always hold her close. Seeing her condition worsen and her strength fade was so hard. I'd have to carry her up and down the stairs, she'd be scared to try to walk down them.

Then I'd have to bring food up to her, her worry and sorrow always on her face as I desperately tried to comfort her. Then the day came, I remember how even in her last moments, she looked up and licked me as i told her how much I loved her, and how I'd never forget her.

I see now that although I have dogs now and love them, Katie's death burned the deepest hole in my heart.

I'm not ashamed to admit that my eyes are quite wet as I write this, and I sobbed as I looked at this photo taken days before her death. Seeing her nose, her eyes, I really loved her. To Katie, I will always remember you, thank you for loving me, thank you for staying with me, and thank you for being my dog❤️

I've been thinking, and I've come along a train of thought which holds not wanting to ask for help as a culprit for a ton of issues I've faced in the past.

As a guy, there is a desire to not rely on others for help and to handle things alone, but this is a dangerous idea as it encouraged me to step outside my lane out of a desire to prove I can handle it.

This is a huge barrier to progress as a desire to handle things alone doesn't mean I will succeed, it just means I need to step back and humble up, ask the right questions, have an experienced person handy, and then maybe.

But this "I gotta do it alone", that needs to stop. While I don't intend to rely on others, I do intend to educate myself more, explore my natural skillsets while gaining new ones, and knowing my place.

One instance where I felt ashamed to accept help was last year when I was hospitalized for a serious lung infection which came as a result of my alcohol problems leading to being taken off Trikafta, a medication for my Cystic Fibrosis which has done nothing less than give me a new life.

Now alcohol is gone, Trikafta is back, coughing and labored breathing are gone, too. But in the hospital, I recieved IV antibiotics, but the IV machine kept on stopping.

Not wanting to keep bothering nurses when all I needed was the IV machine to go back to working, I asked one nurse how to fix it, so I wouldn't be such a burden on the staff.

She giggled and playfully hit me with a newspaper, she was right, those liberties aren't mine to take, the whole reason I was sick, at all, is because I was an irresponsible mess who drank more rum than Jack Sparrow.

This issue was fixed by a PICC line being inserted in me, which I used to finish my rounds of antibiotics and from there, I changed my life but I still feel ashamed to keep hitting the call button when I just needed the machine to work again.

Have you felt ashamed to ask for, or accept assistance from others?