“This afternoon, after running errands, but before succumbing to the rhythms of our normal life, the man set us up on our new back patio with a delicious Sauvignon Blanc (recommended by our friends/landlords) from Southbank (Marlborough, NZ) and a chess board.”

When I wrote this post on Saturday night, my eye lids were heavy, and when I re-read it on Sunday, I was a little appalled at how over the top positive I was.  It felt forced, strained almost.  And not because I meant to be forced, and not because I wasn’t trying to find the positive. I think it came across that way because I was tired when I wrote it, and wanted to avoid falling into any sort of melancholy.

Here’s what I meant to write:

We played chess on a beautiful afternoon while our crazy puppy idled around the yard without her leash (this is a miracle as she loves to sprint into the weeds and bushes the minute you let your guard down).  It was peaceful and gentle.  And as I stared at the rooks and bishops and knights (or, as I like to refer to them, horses) I thought how symbolic the game of chess really is.

My thoughts were jumbled on Saturday night.  The beautiful, crisp New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc could well have been partially responsible for that.  But I did have things I wanted to say … and not what came across in my first post.

Life is like chess … in that before every move you make, you analyze the consequences and try to figure out what will come back at you once you remove your fingers from the playing piece.  I think this feeling gets stronger as you get older, as you begin to see that every action has a reaction, has consequences (across the range … not just good, not just bad).  If I eat this delicious baked concoction of lightly puffed pastry and sugary cheese filling, I will have a moment of taste bud euphoria … and then for the next twenty-four hours I will have stomach pains and feel generally uncomfortable.  Was that cheese Danish worth it?  Was sacrificing my pawn smart when now I’ve left my queen vulnerable?

It didn’t help me that I played the beginning of the game thinking I had to protect my queen at all costs, rather than my king (feminism rearing its ugly head? hahaha …).  Once I learned that I could not sacrifice my king to protect my knight (because, well, then I lose, but also because at least in chess, you cannot put yourself in check) the game took on a whole different feel.  Sort of like finally understanding a tough math problem that had plagued you for weeks.

The man said I have a brain for chess (despite having played only four times in my entire life). I’d like to take that as a compliment, and walk around thinking I’m a crazy genius like Bobby Fisher.  But in reality, I have a feel for the game of chess because once I’m in, I over think every move.  I analyze each move I could make, each counter move my opponent could make, how each move would hurt/help me, how I could defend the next move of my opponent .. I over think chess the way I over think life.

It hasn’t helped my chess game.  The man has beaten me every time.  On Saturday he did give me the gift of a stalemate, which I thought was very kind of him.  It eased my wildly competitive spirit (you know, the one that hates to lose).

I think over thinking has served me well to a point … but mostly it has been my Achilles heel.  It makes me think of those test prep courses (SATs, LSATs, etc)  when they tell you to go with your gut instinct on the multiple choice question you just aren’t sure about.  I hate those questions … just like I hate those kinds of situations in life.  I like black and white, I like the right answer being obvious and easy to identify.  I drive myself crazy over the gray areas.

I guess this all comes full circle to my current (and permanent) new life baggage.  I can analyze the potential results of any choice that I make about MS.  I can hypothesize that food will help, I can hope that medicine will help.  I can guess that I’ll feel better when I figure out the right choices to make.  But just like chess, you sort of can’t predict how the game will progress until you make a commitment to a move.  And that can be scary in real life.  Because you just might lose.