Every week, twice a week, a young man appears at our house. Unannounced. He opens the door, steps right in, calls out a cheery hello and makes himself at home. He assumes I’m happy to see him. Hah! Little does he know.
Then, and with very little prologue, he starts giving orders! To me! In my own house! Unbelievable. Even more unbelievably, I follow those orders. And without (usually) a whole lot of complaining. Such is the power he has over me.
I always tell him he’s free to leave at any moment. He, in turn, always declines my generous offer and insists on staying until he’s had his way with me.
I ask myself why? Why do I allow this to continue? Even wimps should step up to the plate when they’re treated like this. So, why don’t I exercise my given rights?
Well, perhaps, it’s because I don’t want to. Ask me how much weight I can lift now. How many lunges I can do. How long I can hold a plank. These are things that were alien to me a year ago. I’ve learned that it’s very empowering to feel stronger. And it’s all due to the persistence and dedication of that young man, who also happens to be very agreeable and amusing.
The upshot of all that? I’m definitely not a wimp any more.