A·chil·les heel
a weakness or vulnerable point
Life has a way of dishing up what we need, whether we like what is on the menu or not. I’m not sure I know of anyone who asks for another helping of hard, another scoop of sadness, grief, or loss, another dollop of health challenge, or another spoonful of bumping up against our own weakness and fallibility. And yet it is precisely those things that when taken in, chewed up, dare I say savored, and digested, are the nourishment necessary to become the best version of ourselves. Like nutrient dense foods, what comes our way has the potential to fuel our growth and transformation unlike almost anything else.
What has come our way is my geologist’s open-heart surgery and subsequent slow recovery process, and it is requiring everything we have/he has/I have to navigate this long and winding road. He is a 9 on the Enneagram, and I am a 4. Nines tend to think their presence doesn’t matter, and they work hard to accommodate the needs of others, often at their own expense. Fours have a need to feel special, be acknowledged and recognized, and can make it “all about me”. Given our numbers and associated proclivities, our relationship, under the best of circumstances might look like a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, given the work we’ve done to lean into our strengths, honor our differences, and face our own particular weaknesses and vulnerabilities, we’ve managed, however imperfectly, to build what my good friend calls a “freight train of a love story”. I love that. Freight trains aren’t fancy. They are the workhorses of the train world, carry what is needed from here to there, and are difficult to stop once in motion.
That being said, this current chapter is bringing both of us face-to-face with our own Achilles heels. His need not to matter and to accommodate others, and mine to matter and look out for myself. He is constantly in the position of having to state his needs, ask for help, and be the focus of attention on multiple fronts. I am continually given the opportunity to practice putting him first, setting aside what I want in order to provide what he needs, and live in the shadow of his importance. While not what either of us would order, it is what is currently on our plates. Bon appétit!
Life has a way of serving us a buffet line of our Achilles heel. And while it straight up sucks and we’ll be grateful when the menu changes, for now, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
(Written with gratitude for the quick wit and slow-burning wisdom of my good friend, David Berry)
