I was walking down the road I'd been walking down all year. I was almost to the end of the road. I could see the sign at the end, even though I couldn't quite read the words. Standing a block or so in front of the sign was a group of people I knew. I knew they'd be there, almost at the end of the road, almost at the end of the year. I stopped and smiled at them. Suddenly, one of them gave me a hard punch to the stomach. I fell to the ground and curled my body around my aching guts. When I was able to look up, I was alone. The people had gone. They'd said nothing, except for a slight laugh when I fell to the ground.

I got up, still holding my stomach and cursing the people under my breath. I looked back at the way I'd come, which extended back into the horizon. I looked forward, to the end of the road and the sign I couldn't quite read.

And then I left the road, walking neither backward to the beginning or forward to the end. I changed directions, perpendicular to the road I'd been walking all year.

I've been thinking in metaphors over the last couple of days.

I've been testing the solidity of things I know to be real.

I've been feeling better than I have in months.

I've been suppressing giggles and trying not to smirk.

I have become, in the slightest of ways, different than I've been most of the year.

Epiphanies come out of nowhere. It's almost like love at first sight. It is a quick change. Done without much thought on your part, but profound nonetheless.

Suddenly, all the plans I've held dear over the last year are wiped away.

Suddenly, I have a different perspective on the same sights and sounds I've lived with for years.

Suddenly, I feel truly free.

And it comes from those people who sucker punched me. Because they saw me trapped in a box, they thought this would be the final blow. They thought they could get away with a cheap shot, because it was the end. They would wrap me up in that box and send me on my way. Instead, I have torn the box wide open.

Recovering alcoholics call this a moment of clarity. Born again Christians call this seeing the light. I call it a sucker punch epiphany.

I don't know what will come of this change of heart. I could be punished for changing my mind. I could be ignored. I might get hit again.

It doesn't matter, because I have nothing left to lose. And that is where the freedom comes from. Insert Fight Club joke here.

I have another metaphor for you.

I am cornered in a room by the same people who sucker punched me on that road. I have no choice, I have to go through them to get out of the room. Or, I should say, they think I have no choice. Instead of confronting them head on (which would surely lead to my defeat, as they out number me), I break through the wall and into the next room.

Now I have an entire room to work with, and they have to come through the hole I punched in the wall to confront me one by one.

And so I go into the week before Christmas with a new look on life. It was a cheap epiphany, it only cost me my perceived dignity. However, by casting that aside, I was given an even greater amount of pride back.

It was a good trade. And I look forward to the next metaphorical swing of the fist.

And, as the legend goes, Matt Worley's heart grew three sizes that day.