Do you consider yourself lucky? How about fortunate? Blessed?
If you use one of those phrases with any frequency, in my opinion you’re doing it right. By “it” I mean, life.
I am the complainingest complainer who ever complained (Hi, Chad!) and as I told a co-worker today, I worry that catastrophe will follow me because it pretty much does. Of course, my catastrophes are not really bad at all. A little West Nile Virus, pneumonia, meningitis, antibiotic-resistant infection, concussion, congenital heart disease, or threat of pulmonary embolism never hurt anyone. Wait.
But, despite my ailments or those of my son, I consider myself to be a fortunate person. I have great relatives, I married into a family of wonderful people, I have terrific friends, decent health, a job and co-workers I love, a great community – I could go on and on.
Do I have bad days? Yes. Every day has me facing something lousy and I DO complain about it. No sleep, sick kids, no money, car repairs, the stuff we all deal with on a day-to-day basis – and “stuff” is putting it lightly. Or non-cussingly, if you will. Maybe venting helps me deal with what life throws at me. Maybe keeping the little things bottled up would make my anxiety worse.
I think crying is therapeutic, I know my workouts are the best thing I’ve ever done for my mental state, and I’m pretty sure complaining helps me think through my issues. Zoloft doesn’t hurt, either.
Even though I have to do all of those things to keep my mind right, I still tell myself how lucky I am Every. Single. Day.
Because I’m pretty sure the greatest way to straighten out your head is to be grateful that you still have one.
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Mama D
Amen.
Alexandra
This year, more than any, my good fortune has loomed large. I just finished reading Madonna Badger’s painful interview about life, survival more like it, after inconceivable loss: all her children, her parents, in that horrendous fire. My son lost his friend, only ten years old, suddenly, just two weeks ago. The little boy passed away in his sleep. My sister lost her son, in a suicide in January. I am so lucky,lucky, lucky, and I pray every night to never take things for granted, to look back and list the miracles every night. Because I’ve had many. And today, I feel like doing one of those blurb books of all that has been handed to me as if from angels. Just so I don’t ever forget. xo
Elle
Hi there, just wanted to express how this blog hit close to home. We all have our problems and go through rough patches. The Zoloft part, i’m on a similar medication, but hey this is life and we all go through it. You’re doing a great job and you always need to remember that. Don’t ever let anybody tell you otherwise!
I wrote you something on your contact us page as well. If you could look it over and get back to me it would be much appreciated.
Thank you kindly,
Elle
meeshie
I like to complain, too. It doesn’t mean I’m unhappy with life it just means I need to let it out so I don’t become unhappy with life.
You articulated this problem beautifully.
AlisonH
Yesterday, when the furnace guy came down from my roof after looking at the old one, his face ashen, I became suddenly intensely, intensely grateful.
The furnace had been pushing carbon monoxide straight down the vents. We had been poisoned, and there was no question about it, very very very lucky to tell the tale.
Get a CO detector, and make sure it’s not loose from the plug like ours was.
Grateful that Joe had come right over and given me the quote. Grateful that he had said he would start the next day, no, that’s okay if I couldn’t pay for it all yet, tomorrow, that okay?
He didn’t know till afterwards why he was pushing me on it, nor why he’d flubbed his schedule and was at my house giving me that quote rather than somewhere he actually was supposed to be at that moment.
We didn’t know why we just kept not feeling like turning the furnace on, or if we had to, then up. Grateful grateful grateful…
…And what I really wanted to do last night and this morning was to go throw myself on someone’s shoulders, anyone’s, and just blubber my eyes out.