I was sitting here reflecting on the events of the last 24 hours. Last night, I thought I would try to sign up for medical insurance again. I spent several hours doing research and I was pretty excited about the possibility of being insured again. I found a plan that would cover my mental health and vision and the premium was minimal. I read and re-read the plan benefits until I was sure I understood the costs involved. All I needed was to call my doctor to confirm they were still offering virtual visits.
The first down of the day was when the receptionist said yes, but since I had stopped going, I will have to complete two in office visits before resuming virtual visits. I explained to her it would be impossible for me, and asked her to let my doctor know I had called. Each visit would require a 150 mile round trip, about $30 for gas, along with a $50 office charge—compared to $0 for a virtual visit. I lifted myself up by thinking about the vision benefit the insurance would provide. I have to make a decision in the next eight days. The second down came when I got a letter stating my $46 food benefit would decrease to $24 due to a cost of living adjustment. I am very confused, I filed an appeal, and I am trying not to let it get me down even though it will have a huge negative impact on me. After they decide on a date for my appeal, I will have to state my case verbally by phone. They will deliberate, and then notify me by mail. I am getting anxious thinking about it. If it does decrease, it will be difficult for me to afford the insurance.
The third down came this evening when I saw the weather forecast for the flea market on Saturday had changed. Instead of being 48 and warming to near 70, it will only be 38 and rising to 60 by the time it has ended. I think attendance will be too low to warrant spending the $15 fee. Thankfully, there was an upside, and someone is coming in the morning to purchase one of the items I was hoping to sell. As I was giving myself a pep talk to brighten my mood, the idea for this post came into my head.
Many people compare life to a rollercoaster. They describe the ups and downs, twists and turns, and even the moments of fear during a steep drop that eventually levels out. While that comparison might resonate with some, I feel it does not reflect my experience. For me, life feels more like a seesaw—or as some call it, a teeter-totter.
A seesaw is simple in design but carries a lot of meaning. You are either up or down, and it all depends on balance and who is on the other side. When life feels steady, it is like having someone sitting opposite, working with you to keep the movement smooth and predictable. When they get off unexpectedly, it hurts. There is no warning; you just crash to the ground.
In those moments, I do not have the luxury of momentum pulling me back up, like on a rollercoaster. I have to push myself off the ground, using all my strength. That effort is not easy. It requires energy, determination, and sometimes an incredible amount of patience to lift myself up again. Even when I manage to rise, if something else gets piled on me and the load gets too heavy, it takes a lot of strength and willpower to gently lower myself back down without losing control or slamming into the ground.
This constant push and drop, up and down, feels exhausting at times. Unlike a rollercoaster that has an inevitable climb after a drop, and times when you just throw your hands up and enjoy the ride, the seesaw requires active participation. I cannot just sit back and hope for things to get better. If I want to keep going, I have to keep moving, even when it demands more energy than I feel is within me.
Life’s challenges—like financial struggles, health issues, or emotional losses—feel like extra weight added to my side of the seesaw. They make it harder to push off the ground and regain balance. Instead of smoothly going up and down, the added burden makes every movement feel heavier, requiring more effort to keep from being stuck at the bottom. Every down makes me more determined to push myself up—one more time.
This seesaw analogy emphasizes the ongoing effort and energy it takes to maintain balance. Surrounding myself with people who support me is like having a steady counter-weight on the other end, helping me create a rhythm that makes the ride less jarring. When those people are gone, either by circumstance or choice, all the weight shifts back to me. It is then that I must decide whether to jump off or rise again.
Life is not always fair, and it is certainly not always easy. But as long as I am here, I will keep pushing. I will keep finding ways to bring myself back up. Because for all its ups and downs, it is still worth riding this seesaw we call life.
Cover Photo Credit: ID 283563296
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