Even on the days when I wake up groggy from disturbing dreams, carrying some hidden anxieties or fears under paper-thin skin, I walk down the street and I feel lucky. It's a visceral thing, as real as the pain, but it's warm and solid and strong. I don't have to work for it as much as I used to, and it's not ringing hollow like a pithy bit of advice that people seem to sling about out of the discomfort of not knowing what to say.
I am grateful for this love I never thought I would have, from my wife and friends. I am so very grateful for this beautiful child that will be my expensive and exhausting charge for the rest of my life. I don't have any horrible illnesses, although I have some aches and pains that come from aging (and not stretching enough). My job is intellectually satisfying, even though it will not pay the bills if my wife does not get a new job by the end of next summer. I feel cared for and regarded as special by my wife and friends but sometimes these relationships take more work and energy than I want to expend.
I think the key to the gratitude is its coexistence with the crap, which for years I tried to run away from or numb or deny. Feeling all of it right now, thankful I remember to breathe, stand up straight, walk tall, eat my vegetables, and have patience. Truthfully, sometimes I have to force that through clenched teeth, but it generally seems to be some sort of autonomic response.
If I can only manage a whole night's sleep without feeling so unrested. I suppose it's normal to feel sad or stressed with all that's going on, maybe I have a tight cap on everything in order to get through the day and make things happen. Maybe being grateful and seeing the darkness is not enough. I don't have a lot of room here for my feelings and there isn't someone to take care of me anymore since my mom died. It could be I just need a little vacation but I'm not so sure. I think that's a cop-out.
I am worried about my brother, continually mourning my mother, missing my guitar and record collection that's stored in my father's house, wanting to make art, concerned about my wife's job situation, scared that I might not get the raise/promotion I need to move up and on and help support my family, mostly hate my body, feel distant from my friends and need my temporary injuries to heal so I can exercise again. None of that is going to go away if I just have a vacation.
Maybe my gratitude is a side-effect of my realization that all of these things are just simply what is going on and just recognizing that there's only so much I can do about it all right now. Soon I'll figure out how to get my stuff from my father's house without having too much discomfort at dealing with that relationship. Maybe I can even get a record player and listen to the music. Practice on my guitar and finally learn how to play it properly (or at least double my repertoire to six songs). Do the art. Time takes care of the other things, the not under my control things. I guess. Still kind of sad this morning. Time to walk down the street and feel lucky again.
No comments:
Post a Comment