Rob and I used to watch lots of wrestling together. WWF (now the WWE), ECW, and WCW were our favourites.
We would laugh and say maybe we could join the WWE. I could be a wrestler called Amazing Annie with the deadliest clothesline ever (I've been known to give people clotheslines unintentionally throughout the years) and the strongest headlock. And Rob could be my manager: Rob Warenda the War-Ender, who liked to start feuds but would feign being a peace lover when things too hot for him.
I often compare wrestling to my own life. When times are hard or stressful, I picture myself getting beaten up by Triple H or Shawn Michaels and fighting back with all of my might.
These past few weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. In fact, yesterday I got two pieces of bad news. And yet, I feel like Hulk Hogan, who, upon getting beaten to a bloody pulp, would suddenly gather all of his courage and strength and win the match.
Life, you have put me in a sleeper hold and a figure-4 leg lock many, many times, but I still have lots of moves of my own.
I'm not tapping out!