Blister recovery day.


Screenshot 2014-02-26 12.11.44

Today is blister recovery day. My many kilometers of walking in the past week and a half have finally caught up with me (in more than just the sore legs). My poor feet, who were relatively unused in Minnesota except to drive with, sprouted some very large blisters a few days ago. I decided to ignore them and keep walking since I had things to do, people to see, and forms to turn in. After this abuse, however, the blisters got to the point where they needed some care last night, and though I won’t share the gory details, my feet are taking a break today.

I’ve got band-aids on my heels and have promised myself to not walk more than a couple kilometers in shoes today. Something about shoes is just irritating to them, I guess.

So, today is the day I stay home. I keep learning German on Duolingo (amazing how much you can learn in a few minutes!), I eat a – hopefully – balanced diet that doesn’t include too much bread, and write letters. I’m also going to make a flyer to put up in the English department saying, “Need a native English speaker to proofread your papers??” It should be a hit.

I’ve decided to also make a list of things I want to do before I leave. This way I can have goals for the days when I have no responsibilities.

Even days at home can have purpose. Fortunately, I have a lovely window with plenty of sunshine and fresh air to keep me sane today. And if I get desperate, there’s a bank, a grocery store, and a bakery two minutes away from here. My feet should be able to take that.

More to learn.


You’ll notice that the spacing is different in between lines in this post. Dead giveaway that I’m blogging on my phone. I’m not sure why you needed to know that but I felt like I needed to explain the formatting change. Now you know. Commence real thoughts.
I’ve been thinking about vulnerability the past couple days, how hard it is and how crucial it is that I practice it. Hard because when you share a piece of your soul with someone, it’s kind of like pulling off a band-aid. You don’t need the band-aid for the scratch to heal. (it might be an accidental paper cut, maybe a wound self-inflicted in a moment of weakness or panic, maybe a jab from someone else) You will eventually need to take it off. But the stuff under there might not look so pretty, and you never know exactly how someone will react to you ripping off a band-aid. They might be grossed out by the band-aid, shocked by the method of removal, or hesitant to peer at something messy and weak.
I’m hesitant to be vulnerable because I’m terrified of being misunderstood. You probably get this. I hope you do, otherwise my great fear will be actualized right here and now. I choose my moments of vulnerable sharing carefully, gauging if the person knows enough about me that they’ll understand why I’m sharing this and cares for me enough that they won’t judge me for it.
This is why relationships of any kind are hard. Sometimes they’re one-way vulnerable streets. Sometimes nobody opens up. Sometimes there’s way too much sharing, and trust gets broken or misunderstanding happens or you share too quickly.
Do you ever get sharer’s regret? Like when you maybe open up on the spur of the moment and – even if the response is ideal – wish you’d just kept it to yourself?
I do.
It’s a hoarrible way to live. (I spelled that wrong on purpose.) You hoard everything you wish you could share and thus feel horrible. I don’t know what the cure is, but I think it has something to do with listening well so that others are invited to be vulnerable and opening up when the burdens ask to be shared.
I’m sure it’s a learned practice, like juggling or walking on your hands. Probably as difficult. Maybe a bit more worthwhile.