Yes, I’m grateful. Even when it’s hard.
I’m grateful that I know that I have given up the right to suicide. And that I know I know I know that things will only get worse if I start using drugs again. I know this. So I find myself doing long internet searches about life in Ireland. Or Greece. Spending hours planning a giant geographical cure.
I am grateful to know that my tendency to have big stress reactions to financial realities and financial worries is hurting my health.
I am grateful to have enough willingness to start meditating and practicing t’ai chi again. I clearly have run out of reserves.
There is a part of me that hates that it all comes down to regular practice. Just like when I found out that cleaning the gutters (having them cleaned, actually) of the one and only home I ever bought wasn’t a permanent condition. I was appalled, really, to find out that the gutters filled up with leaves again and had to be cleaned regularly. Jeeze!
Same way, it seems, with meditation. With T’ai Chi. With exercise. With everything in my toolbox that provides me with the life I desire. Even with rolling out my IT bands—if I skip a week it really really hurts; if I do it once or twice a week there’s no pain. Regular application is critical. Sigh.
Someone once told me that my willingness will save me. Guess so. Lucky me.
I’d really rather be saved by a lottery win and the ability to pay people to create the space for me to do all these wonderful things. Self-generation is not as appealing as being handheld. Oh well. I’m here, I’m present, I meditated and I did t’ai chi. And I will do so again. And so it goes.
I am a grateful gal. Glad I’m not dead. And some days this is where I get to start.