Day Three

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Every year during the winter I end up with bronchitis at least a couple of times. My mom is convinced she and my dad are at fault because of the years they spent subjecting me and my sisters to their second-hand smoke. They were both heavy smokers for most of my childhood, but thankfully, kicked the habit many years ago. Because I know that it really worries her, I tell her that of course that can’t be true. (Although it may be true.)

Whatever the cause, I’ve spent almost every year of my adult life dreading head colds because I know at any point, they could turn into days of barely breathing and nights coughing myself awake. One winter a few years back I was one of the lucky ones who contracted the bird flu, or swine flu, or whatever horrible version was going around at the time. It truly was horrible. When I watched the Infection episode of The Walking Dead, I could relate. Well, not entirely, but you get my point.

At any rate, I’ve gotten to Jan 3rd without bronchitis. Or even a head cold. Seriously, I’m knocking on wood and throwing salt over my shoulder. The only difference I can attribute this to is that several months ago I got on an exercise routine. I started going to the gym 3-4 times a week and even took up running. I’ve not noticed much difference to my physique, but apparently my lungs are in better shape thanks to all the huffing and puffing. For that, I’m grateful.

Day Two

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I went back to work today after an almost two-week holiday break. I wasn’t overjoyed. However, I work at a college and because the students are still on break, I knew my day would at least be quiet. For the most part it was, so I had several hours of uninterrupted time to organize my office and create a to-do list for the start of the new semester. That’s the cool part of working on a school schedule. The semesters end and begin again; there’s always a fresh start at some point. That will probably be a topic to post about at some point, but not today. What struck me today was my office. What looks like clutter to most is a collection of moments to me.

I have a couple of bulletin boards in my office that are covered with pictures and mementos, mostly things given to me by others. I have thank you notes and holiday cards, pictures and gifts from students and colleagues alike.  On my desk I have a small collection of toys that usually invite conversation from visitors. I always know who the Dr. Who fans are because they are the only ones who recognize the 11th Doctor’s screwdriver sitting next to my computer. And on my computer I have some notes from my daughters who stop by to visit. Those are my favorite.

photo2What may seem like a lot of junk to some people is joy to me. I spend my days surrounded by memories of others and how they thought enough of me to leave little bits of themselves behind. And I can’t help but be grateful for that.

New Year

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Today I could say that I’m grateful for a new year and new beginnings and all the typical stuff. It would be true, of course. However, today I’m really thankful for the past year. Specifically, I’m thankful for all the painful moments–and there were a lot of them.

In the middle of last year, I came to the realization that I needed to walk away from the man I loved. The end of any relationship is difficult, even when it’s a mutual mess and both sides are at the point of hating each other. It’s harder, I think, when you realize that loving each other isn’t enough. Sometimes it’s simply not good for the soul. Although the heart wants what the heart wants, it doesn’t always know what’s good for us. Walking away from this relationship was difficult for me on many levels, but mostly because it meant making myself a priority. Not an easy decision for someone conditioned otherwise.

The painful moments of that choice have led me to a point where I’ve learned to be on my own. Not just on my own, paying the bills and taking care of the house; I had done that before. But being alone. As Alanis Morissette sings, I declared a respite from the toils of liaison. Strangely, I didn’t yearn to fill the void with another relationship, although I had plenty of lonely moments. Instead, I spent more time with friends and more time by myself. I learned to appreciate being solitary.

In fact, last night I didn’t go anywhere. I had some invites, but I chose instead to stay home. I built a fire and watched bad tv. I ate whatever sounded good at the moment, which included strawberry pie, rutabaga, rice pudding, and wasabi pecans, and drank a Chocolate Cherry Bock. (Thankfully, I didn’t puke later from the combination.) I rearranged a bookshelf. I sang karaoke in the dark. (It was an easy crowd). Then, at midnight, I stopped flossing long enough to say Happy New Year to myself in the mirror. Overall, it was a good New Year’s Eve. I spent it alone, and that was ok. I’m not sure I would have been happy with that a year ago. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t be.

So while I hope for more good moments in 2014 than painful ones, I’m grateful for the turmoil of last year. I’m entering the new year a stronger person.

Beginning

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Ever notice how things can creep up on you?

Suddenly, my life had become filled with too much negativity–in the news, in the office chatter, in the lives of friends. I was finding myself pulled further and further from my natural optimism and longed for balance. I truly believe that is the key to healthy living. Balance. So in order to cancel out the negative around me, I knew I needed to find the positive. That is my quest; this is my gratitude journal. It’s a challenge to myself to look for the positives around me. Daily. Not just notice them in passing, but to see them and write them down. For the next year, that is my plan.

Because I’m starting from the negative, I’m sure it’s going to be difficult. I’m going to get lazy or complacent or down or up or too busy to want to take note and set the good into words. But I’m going to try. I imagine some days will be great big gratitude days where amazing things will happen, while other days I may simply be grateful that the day is over. It should be interesting. And at the end of this, I hope I’ll at least be a little more observant of my life. That, my friends, will be a good thing. It’s my life; I’d hate to miss it.