Gratitude
Sometimes in my life it has seemed like the door to hope was closed.
Every path led to frustration or pain. Every night I would lie in the dark and worry or simply despair. I would wake in the morning tired and sad. Another day. Another day.
Sometimes I have put things in the perspective that suffering has forced my hand - it has given me an inescapable opportunity to improve or disintegrate as a human being. I like to say to myself that I have become a better person because of my struggles with illnesses and childhood this and that, and, objectively speaking, I'm a much nicer person than I was as a child.
But I would not dream of telling a person who is suffering to be grateful for their illness or suffering or tragedy. How could I dare to tell another person how they "should" feel under those circumstances? I have learned - and this took a long time - that it does no good ever telling anyone how they should feel. Feelings are feelings, after all.
I am not grateful for my troubles. I would rather to have been born under different circumstances and with a healthier set of genes. I would rather not to have encountered certain people. The "what if's" and "if only's" list could grow quite long should I continue on this train of thought.
But I want to talk about a different setting for gratitude.
One year for my birthday my mother gave me a copy of Simple Abundance, by Sarah Ban Breathnach. I was struggling, and it was the newest self-help book on the market aimed at women who were suffering in some way or another. I have never quite finished reading it, but I recommend it.
In any case, I drew one incredibly helpful exercise - a practice, a ritual - from the book. I believe the author has since parlayed that one exercise into another whole book. The idea is a simple one: Keep a "Gratitude Journal." At first I rebelled at her suggestion. What did I have to be grateful for at that point? But I decided to give it a fair try.
I got a smallish spiral notebook to keep on my nightstand. Every night, the last thing I did before I turned out the light was to list 10 things I was grateful for that day.
I felt pretty sarcastic those first two weeks. Hmm...let's see. I'm grateful that I didn't get that job I'd had my hopes pinned on. Oh, and that crying jag was really fun.
Nonetheless, I dutifully filled out positive things in those ten spaces.
What was I grateful for on a dark day? I am grateful for a reliable roof over my head. I am grateful for having enough food to eat. I am grateful for having television to while away the depressing hours. I am grateful for....? Ten things??? It was easy to run out of ideas really fast. But I slogged my way through it every night.
Soon the knowledge that I'd be writing these things down that night made me start taking mental notes during the day. Oh yeah - I just made some chocolate chip cookies, and that first one tasted really good. I want to remember that one for later on. Oh - and that first rush of fresh, cold air felt good when I finally (finally!) got up, got dressed, and stepped out of the house. All those little things began to crowd my mind so I wouldn't forget to write them down.
What I didn't realize until a couple of months later was that I began to enjoy my days again. I was looking for the good things, and the little things that were good were everywhere to be experienced. That didn't mean that quite a few days weren't like dark holes and so that's night list was back to basics. But the inward turning - the self-absorption - of depression was forced outward as I looked for answers to that night's question: What ten things are you grateful for today?
I heard the Great Horned owl this evening when I came home.
My friend Pete made me laugh.
The air conditioning works.
I rediscovered a favorite joke while I was researching what to blog today.
I enjoyed remembering how healthy my dad looked during my last visit.
The cat smells deodorizer stuff finally seems to be working sort of.
It feels good to wiggle my toes on the foot of my chair while I'm at the computer.
My mother removed and adopted a large plant I kept forgetting to water and was in the way anyway.
Today the temperature outside was in the 70's (F) instead of the 80's or 90's (or higher).
The big, complicated salad I made for lunch was thoroughly satisfying.
Every night became every day - What am I grateful for right now?
Every path led to frustration or pain. Every night I would lie in the dark and worry or simply despair. I would wake in the morning tired and sad. Another day. Another day.
Sometimes I have put things in the perspective that suffering has forced my hand - it has given me an inescapable opportunity to improve or disintegrate as a human being. I like to say to myself that I have become a better person because of my struggles with illnesses and childhood this and that, and, objectively speaking, I'm a much nicer person than I was as a child.
But I would not dream of telling a person who is suffering to be grateful for their illness or suffering or tragedy. How could I dare to tell another person how they "should" feel under those circumstances? I have learned - and this took a long time - that it does no good ever telling anyone how they should feel. Feelings are feelings, after all.
I am not grateful for my troubles. I would rather to have been born under different circumstances and with a healthier set of genes. I would rather not to have encountered certain people. The "what if's" and "if only's" list could grow quite long should I continue on this train of thought.
But I want to talk about a different setting for gratitude.
One year for my birthday my mother gave me a copy of Simple Abundance, by Sarah Ban Breathnach. I was struggling, and it was the newest self-help book on the market aimed at women who were suffering in some way or another. I have never quite finished reading it, but I recommend it.
In any case, I drew one incredibly helpful exercise - a practice, a ritual - from the book. I believe the author has since parlayed that one exercise into another whole book. The idea is a simple one: Keep a "Gratitude Journal." At first I rebelled at her suggestion. What did I have to be grateful for at that point? But I decided to give it a fair try.
I got a smallish spiral notebook to keep on my nightstand. Every night, the last thing I did before I turned out the light was to list 10 things I was grateful for that day.
I felt pretty sarcastic those first two weeks. Hmm...let's see. I'm grateful that I didn't get that job I'd had my hopes pinned on. Oh, and that crying jag was really fun.
Nonetheless, I dutifully filled out positive things in those ten spaces.
What was I grateful for on a dark day? I am grateful for a reliable roof over my head. I am grateful for having enough food to eat. I am grateful for having television to while away the depressing hours. I am grateful for....? Ten things??? It was easy to run out of ideas really fast. But I slogged my way through it every night.
Soon the knowledge that I'd be writing these things down that night made me start taking mental notes during the day. Oh yeah - I just made some chocolate chip cookies, and that first one tasted really good. I want to remember that one for later on. Oh - and that first rush of fresh, cold air felt good when I finally (finally!) got up, got dressed, and stepped out of the house. All those little things began to crowd my mind so I wouldn't forget to write them down.
What I didn't realize until a couple of months later was that I began to enjoy my days again. I was looking for the good things, and the little things that were good were everywhere to be experienced. That didn't mean that quite a few days weren't like dark holes and so that's night list was back to basics. But the inward turning - the self-absorption - of depression was forced outward as I looked for answers to that night's question: What ten things are you grateful for today?
I heard the Great Horned owl this evening when I came home.
My friend Pete made me laugh.
The air conditioning works.
I rediscovered a favorite joke while I was researching what to blog today.
I enjoyed remembering how healthy my dad looked during my last visit.
The cat smells deodorizer stuff finally seems to be working sort of.
It feels good to wiggle my toes on the foot of my chair while I'm at the computer.
My mother removed and adopted a large plant I kept forgetting to water and was in the way anyway.
Today the temperature outside was in the 70's (F) instead of the 80's or 90's (or higher).
The big, complicated salad I made for lunch was thoroughly satisfying.
Every night became every day - What am I grateful for right now?
posted by Elizabeth | 3:13 PM
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