So I was catching up with a friend of mine on Facebook, when she asked a question that made me realize that she and I hadn’t chatted in a while. So as I was catching her up, I realized that my life must sound a little Job-ian.
I mean, from an outsider’s perspective, it must seem like the sky is falling all around me. Whether it be Baby Girl three years ago, or K’s NF, my general health issues/lupus or my separation, I can appreciate that it sounds really terrible. But it’s really not. And I have a really hard time trying to explain to people why I don’t think it’s as bad as they seem to think it is. In fact, my life is pretty darn good, thank you very much.
I joked with one of my sisters that on occasion when I talk to people (including them!) that it’s as if I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness or someone close to me has died. There’s sort of this soft, “are you okay?” and the “but how are you really doing?” and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the concern. I’d probably be upset if they stopped asking. But nobody seems to want to believe me when I tell you that most days are better than okay: they’re good – sometimes great. Sure, there are some bad days, bu I tend to ignore those and move on.
And that’s when I realized that most of us spend too much time on the big events. Big events, whether good or bad, can consume you. And when they’re good and all-consuming, that seems like a wonderful thing. But when they’re bad and all-consuming, it can be very, very dark. So I want to spend some time celebrating the little things. That’s one of the reasons I started my Gratitude Journal (oh crap, I should do another one of those).
In the end, everyone has to find the way through life that works best for them. For me, I like to remember that just because life might seem a little Job-ian, doesn’t mean that I have to feel like Job. And just because things get a little soap-opera-y is no excuse for acting like shrill shrew. Because my every day has some little bits of amazing in it all over the place – I just have to remember to look.