Anecdotal Evidence · Big Fat Wine Tears · Bigger Than My Body

Life’s a Bitch, But It Finds a Way: The Story of Mixed Messages

Disease is a creep. It lurks in the corners of our bodies, twiddling its thumbs and stroking its villainous mustache. Or without warning, it simply appears — bing-bang-boom, THE PARTY HAS ARRIVED.


It seems like when life begins an upward climb, illness breaks in like the weirdo who doesn’t knock before waltzing into the shoddy-locked bathroom. When that happens, you’re either just like, fuck it, “hey guy,” or you keel over as if you’ve been shot. We initially react those same two ways when it comes to unexpected illnesses. Denial or depression.

It scratches at our hearts and brains. We get sick. The people we love get sick. Sometimes it clears up, and other times…well, it sticks. It’s certainly not fair, but we’ve learned that saying from our very first tantrum — Life’s not fair.

But! But! But! In addition to not fair, life is other things.

Life is funny — a dark comedy for the masses. It is perched on a blue blobby miracle called Earth. It’s conjured up by magic — some call it science, but don’t get confused, it’s magic. Even gone, it lives on in relics and bones like a riddle, and it balances precariously on a crooked big toe. What starts our hearts to beat is as mysterious as the big bang. Life is as meaningful or un-meaningful as we want it to be.

Another saying: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger (unless you’re Obi Wan, in which case, what kills you makes you hella strong), so keep fighting and be strong. Maybe life isn’t personally planning our ascent to greatness, but we can traverse that unpaved footpath anyway.

The poet Jeff Goldblum tells us – “If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us it’s that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, it expands to new territories and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously, but, uh… well, there it is.  I’m simply saying that life, uh… finds a way.”

Jeff may have been referring to dinosaurs…but I’m not convinced that I’m not doing the same thing…and I have no idea what I mean by that.


Moral of the story: Disease might look like a 1920s train robber who barges into the bathroom and generally ends all parties, but life looks like you, and you are a beauty with a knack for finding meaning among awfulness.

Hey guy


*This post was brought to you by spoiled wine and no other beverage options.

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