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Sometimes it feels good to have someone else admit they don’t know what they’re doing either. We are all flying by the seat of out pants when we enter new situations, aren’t we, so finding a comrade in confusion is a comfort. Admitting we don’t have all the answers opens us up to connecting with others and feeling the relief of community.

When the physical therapist asks me how my foot feels, half the time I am not sure. So much attention to it confuses me. Then I feel bad about not being in better touch with my foot. My buddy George is often at the physical therapist’s gym with me so when he asked me the other day if things were getting better, I had to admit I did not know. This apparently gave him permission to admit the same to me. He has two new knees and sometimes he says he goes up the stairs in his house asking himself if this is how it felt with the old knees, or is it better. The guys got two new knees and he isn’t sure either.

I like having George as my comrade in confusion. Feels good.