I have always been right! Handed, that is. It’s my dominant side and I’ve often shuddered at the thought of having to change. Life must have heard me and had a chuckle at my expense.
Last summer, a visit to a dodgy dentist left me unable to chew on my right side anymore. It was challenging to change my chew. Yet it did make me slow down and pay attention.
But when I recently developed a condition in my right hand that makes it painful to write or make art, I was concerned. “What’s the gift?” I asked myself between mouthfuls of Tylenol.
I’m learning, slowly, to use my left hand. I’m starting with bigger movements, like wagging my left index finger in disapproval instead of my right, or manning the corkscrew. My goal is to one day take a calligraphy course and write even more beautifully with my left hand than I’ve ever done with my right. I’ve bought dictation software, challenging myself to process my ideas differently.
Life is forcing me to crawl when I love to run, but I am determined that my response shall always be “thank you.” After all, it’s only right.