“Make a list of things you’re grateful for.” This is the next writing prompt in my book designed to lead me out of depression and anxiety. I’m still holding onto my judgement on the author of this book. I’m resisting the urge to simply list the fact that IF I ever do write my book, I’ll know not to end my sentences on a preposition. I’m polling my parts and looking for the best me to write this post. I’m striving for posting something here worth reading. I’m persisting despite the voice that tells me I have nothing to say worth hearing. I’m deciding to humble myself and make as many grammar mistakes as necessary to extract these thoughts from my mind. Besides – what kind of unpublished asshole would criticize a published author? Me…Me. I’m that asshole.
But I digress…
Gratitude – the act of being thankful. So what the things for which I’m grateful? Well let’s see….
I’m grateful for really good therapists who will treat me for reduced rates and who never give up on me. My most recent therapist has admitted that she finds me interesting and enjoys treating me and so I’m also grateful that my crazy is interesting and entertaining enough to keep the shrink on my hook.
I’m grateful for whatever happened in my past that has allowed me to be an open minded person who doesn’t consider the nationality, race, gender, orientation, class, wealth (or any other demographic) of others. Despite my small town upbringing in the center of the US, I’m not a Trumpster, a bigot or a racist. Surely this is no small miracle.
I’m grateful for the week I just spent in the Rocky Mountains; celebrating my 50th birthday with my older sister who means so much to me. I’m grateful my lungs, despite 35 years of smoking, have recovered enough in the past two years since I quit to power me through 30 miles of cycling at 10,000 feet elevation. I’m grateful for the freedom of movement I have in traveling about the country and spending time with those I love so dearly.
I’m grateful for my noise canceling bluetooth earphones that allow me to stay up later than my hosts and blast the music that soothes my soul and quiets my mind. I’m grateful that I decided to invest in my Spotify premium account so that I can listen without interruption from the capitalists who seek to sell me their product. I’m grateful that my son has turned me onto EDM and the insane amount of good music that takes me to another world where I find myself waiting.
I’m grateful that my body is responding so nicely to the kinder treatment I’ve been giving to it. I am grateful for every breath, every heartbeat, ever blink and every movement of my limbs. I’m grateful that despite the disease I can feel growing within me, I’m still here and able to pursue a live worth living before I die.
I’m grateful for underwhelming books with sentences ending in prepositions that challenge me to write despite myself.
I’m grateful I can ignore the voice within me that tells me this isn’t enough, that I should write more, that I am falling short.
I’m grateful for the voice within me that says “fuck it…click publish and get some sleep.”