I read a story of a pilot, who had come near death several times in accidents connected to flying. In counseling he revealed that he “always landed on his feet”. His psychiatrist observed that in order to land on your feet, you’ve got to fall off of something. Or in his case… out of something – the air.
Well I am that kind of guy. I’ve always considered myself a “come back kid.” Many of us do. It’s a fairly common title.
But in my life, as I came back from various types of accidents and several near fatal encounters, I had to face this fact: I set myself up for these mishaps to prove that I was worthy of your attention. Everybody adores a come back kid.
My last accident, at age 71, nearly took my life. In counseling, my psychiatrist tagged me with a new reality.
Jokingly I stated “hell I’ve broken nearly every damn bone in my body!” Then I chortled about putting myself in danger during a rocket attack in Vietnam. My doctor turned to me and rather sternly remarked “you’ve got a death wish.”
What does one do with that?