Gratitude.

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I just want to take a moment (or perhaps six minutes) to talk about gratitude. I honestly feel that gratitude is something we as young children express so freely and effortlessly without even realizing it. The way kids run around and play outside like the indoors is their nemesis, the way they dance in both the rain and the sunshine just the same, the manner in which they laugh at nothing and giggle at everything incessantly, and how they carry on fearlessly jumping off tables and countertops and getting lost in everything they’re forbidden to touch. As children, we love and appreciate the smallest things without realizing it and once we get older, that appreciation gradually fades within so many of us. Innate joy morphs into stress, negativity, self-deprivation and self-deprication.
Gratitude is something that we can easily practice without it even taking much effort. So, why is it so hard to do sometimes? Who doesn’t love to admire the orange-red hues of a sunset or to zone out to their favorite music? But yet our heads remain buried in our phones, our brows furrowed as we hop the train or on the drive to work to what we believe to be our crappy 9-5s that take up so much of our time in our crappy lives. Life can indeed be rough. But why doesn’t the simple act of being joyful and appreciative come as naturally as we age? Why is it often easier to complain for 10 minutes than it is to find even the smallest thing to be thankful for for 10 seconds and to make a natural habit of that? This is something I’ve spent a lot of time searching for answers to within myself as well. Many would say it’s because ignorance is bliss and as children, we haven’t experienced enough to know any better and to understand how hard life really is. I can’t argue with that one.
Today at work, standing in a circle with some of my awesome coworkers, we shared personal stories about the health challenges we’ve faced or that our loved ones were faced with along with the touchy subject of mortality. One of my buddies shared his story about his past battle with three simultaneous illnesses including juvenile diabetes as well as his cousin’s sudden death from cancer which tore his world in two. Another co-worker told us about his aunt who was diagnosed with stage four cancer last year and had little time to live before she died leaving behind her dreams, booked vacations and her passion for life. The third young lady told us the story behind the u-shaped scar on the center of her neck where she’d had emergency surgery to remove her thyroid due to a cancer diagnosis. To think that she simply thought she had an ear infection before it all unfolded…
When she and I held a conversation for the first time yesterday, I didn’t know her at all. But what I now know about her is that behind her pretty face, the brown slit of a scar across her neck (which I never even noticed before) will forever serve as a daily reminder to her of how her life was almost taken away at the premature age of 20.
What she doesn’t know is that I will never see her the same again. She’ll never know unless she found this post or unless I tell her, how much hearing her story made me check myself after I left work today and how she affected my heart. Afterall, when we’re in a room full of new people, all we see is their facial expressions and bodies. When I arrive to work, I see humans at cubicles without knowing their truths. At best, I can feel their energy, but cannot tell what lies beneath.
I’d just been chuckling at her loud snort of a laugh the day before as I had never had a conversation with her, and just yesterday as we got to talking, she revealed that she was celebrating the anniversary of her sixth year cancer-free. (What a difference a few powerful words can make when you don’t know a person). Who knew that at the age of 21 she was preparing to die as she sat with an attorney among a pile of papers creating her will to secure her young daughter’s future without her. She has since given birth to her second child whom she calls her miracle because she wasn’t necessarily expected to survive cancer let alone conceive another child whose eyes she would have the privilege of looking into and seeing a reflection of herself.
There I stood in a circle of some inspiring individuals, ready to fall out on the floor fighting myself through body aches and chills, and yet after I went home early with this sudden, silly flu-like bug, all I could do was give thanks. All I could do was write this passage even though the body aches were radiating to my fingers and shins my body was pleading with me to rest and to cease all movement. But my heart wouldn’t let me and therefore I couldn’t fall asleep. All I could think about were the people I work with and the blessing I’ve been given to have a job that is like an open forum where we can shamelessly swap stories, inspire one another, share kind words and gestures, laugh, listen, work hard, make mistakes and help each other through them, and genuinely be encouraging and supportive of each other away from home.
I’ve been reminded that through our own pain, no matter what may lie within that vessel of discomfort and struggle that we should pop the blister in order to muster the courage to release our story. Afterall, not only is it cathartic but it is our unique and personal journey that may serve as the key to unlocking some buried treasure within someone else.
Today, I give thanks to those who are brave enough to share their experiences. I am grateful to be employed, for gradually rebuilding and regaining my strength after battling my own health challenges throughout the last year and a half in particular. I appreciate being able to see, hear, taste, walk, stand, breathe and to be able to simply live. I am grateful for the support I receive at a job I never expected to work at this time in my life. I am appreciative of my new coworkers and to my manager who, combined, left me hot tea on my desk, gave me Airborne pills, and Tylenol. I thank the lady who let me hop in front of her in the dirty bathroom line after the train ride home where I was both weak and ready to explode–because kindness does still exist in the places we least expect. I give thanks for my family (alive and deceased) and loved ones, for my true friends, for new inspirational people I have been meeting, hearing and reading about and for the courage I am finally finding inside myself to share my stories.
My own mother is a walking example of determination, fearlessness and fight. She almost lost her young life when she was 21 due to a chronic illness and while she was fighting that battle, she lost her mother to cancer. She was told she would remain ill and on medication for the rest of her life, and yet more than 30 years later neither has come to pass. Sometimes I am in awe that I am a living breathing piece of the woman she is and the strength she possesses.
All I could think about on my ride home today was how quickly the rug can be snatched from beneath our feet in the blink of an eye and how any of our lives can be over in a split second. Every moment we are still breathing is a chance to live. The key is getting out of our own way so that we can make the best of the time we have been given here before our expiration date.
Having said all of this, we should never feel forced to minimize or dismiss our discomfort or pain. It’s human to want to run from it, to mask it or sometimes even to wallow in it. That’s ok. Maybe the key is just feeling our way through it so that we are able to find that balance between working towards meeting ourselves where we are and also working towards building a habit of noticing the good so that we can move to a better place. One can and will outweigh the other. I am working towards this goal myself and ask myself to stop nitpicking so much about the unwanted or the imperfections in each day and to instead focus more and more on the best things.
I realize more and more that I am surrounded by people who inspire me to do better, to not just work harder but to work smarter, and to also be easier on myself through this journey and blessing called life–which is very humbling. We didn’t have to be here, but we are. The question is, what will we make of our time left on this earth?
Everyone has a story and you never know what someone else is going through and how their words can add value to your life experience. You never know how your story could do the same for someone else.
May we all aim to be better listeners, better supporters, and lovers of ourselves, of life and of those around us.
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The beautiful oasis outside my job

Go.

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There is something to be said for having the strength to just go. To start something you’ve been longing to begin when you hadn’t felt courageous enough to take those first few steps. To make that first move. Something like moving closer and closer to the edge of the diving board when you’re too afraid to take the plunge so you can finally glide through the water. You know you’re frightened to take that leap so your wings can catch wind and allow you to soar. And yet, momentum cannot propel us without us taking those first few crucial steps. So “Just Do It,” we yell to ourselves echoing that timeless branded phrase.”

And yet we still feel stuck in the mud. We can become enamored by the comfort of predictability and paralyzed by the process of change–even if it is a change we think we want. We can be in love with the idea of starting something new without ever even moving an inch due to fear.

It is at this time that I speak these very same words to myself as I step out of the comfort zone of my notebook pages and my iPhone notepad and out onto a limb (or perhaps a very thin branch that may snap along the way) to finally do something I have been wanting to do for years: To collect and share my reflections that form from living in this beautiful, sometimes frightening and ever-changing world, and to simply create. To share words, thoughts, feelings and whatever else comes forth with whomever wishes to read along. I am not sure what will become of this blog, but I am hoping to reach out–starting from within.

It is with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, rawness and relief that I sincerely thank you for reading. I hope that you will take something away from your visit here.

*Be patient with yourself as you collect the courage to take those first steps so momentum can propel you to where it is you wish to go in this life.