Gratitude List #3

"Fret not your mind with puzzles that you cannot solve. The solutions may never be shown to you until you have left this life. The loss of dear ones, the inequality of life, the deformed and the maimed, and many other puzzling things may not be known to you until you reach the life beyond."

In 2002, I was fourteen and in an inpatient treatment program at a downtown hospital. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how long I was there. It could have been two weeks or two months—time didn’t really exist then. I only know that I disappeared toward the end of eighth grade and returned entirely different. The angry, dark girl who left came back finishing out the school year in cardigans and calling herself Christian, and no one really knew why. During that time, I had only my schoolwork, a wall “radio” that played a single classical station, and a Bible—the same kind they keep in hotel drawers.

I remember a girl about my age who always dumped a packet of Equal into her half-pint of milk, and a boy who was the most depressed person I had ever met. I didn’t understand why. On family therapy day, his mom and dad seemed nice. They were together, organized, prepared—they'd done all the therapy assignments and never complained about him. It was a stark contrast to my own situation. I understood why I was there. I understood the girl with the milk. But this boy? What was wrong? Didn’t he have it all?

It was jarringly bold when milk girl flat-out asked him, “What the fuck you so sad about?” He tried to explain, almost breathless, about the news: starving kids in Africa, bombings overseas, oceans dying, forests burning. He listed everything as though the U.N. held him personally responsible for the state of the world.

And then she said, “Yeah, but none of that shit is happening to you. How are you so sad about nothing that concerns you? You won’t even meet one of those starving kids. If you cared, you’d help them instead of just be sad.” And I guess it cured him, because not long after, he was discharged. That night, lying in bed listening to my one radio station, I kept thinking about how he was just a kid himself. There were adults—powerful adults with real resources—who should be tackling world hunger. Not some kid with scuffed sneakers and a nice mom.

A lot happened during that stint in the hospital. I read the Bible because there was nothing else to read. Milk girl and I begged the staff to let us do the Darrin’s Dance Grooves VHS tape, and they actually agreed. But what stayed with me most was the idea of wasting a perfectly happy, healthy home and family in order to stew over starving kids in Africa. I suppose I could sit and simmer in international starvation and burning forests now. But I don’t.

As an adult, I understand more about that boy’s sorrow—how overwhelming the world feels once you realize suffering is infinite and you are finite. I see how easily people get lost in unsolvable puzzles: inequities, tragedies, mysteries that belong to a life beyond understanding. So I try not to do the same. I donate to a women’s shelter and an animal rescue. Not because I’m fixing anything, but because my days are limited. I’m almost middle-aged. My strength is limited. My time is limited. And I’m not going to waste a perfectly happy, healthy home and family on things outside my control. I’d rather give what I can and be grateful for what I have, without setting myself on fire trying to solve the unanswerable.

Anyway, here is a gratitude list. I bask in the wealth of my life, and I’m unashamed of that. Yes, there are many who have less, and many who have more. But this is mine. All mine. And I’m not going to feel guilty for anything that belongs to someone else.

• Glitter polish and stickers.

• Friends being in happy, loving relationships.

• Taco Bell.

• Texting with past co-workers.

• Friends who reach out to me for comfort and support.

• A new season of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

• Fresh-ground coffee.

• Avocado toast with a little bit of everything seasoning.

• Maxing out my 401K contributions this year.

• Getting more tasks at work.

• Sending and receiving Christmas cards.

• Perfume.

• Wrapping presents.

• Decorating the tree.

• Realizing how many of my year’s goals I accomplished, and planning for next year.

• How this blog has evolved with me over the years.

• How fortunate I am to grow and evolve in profound, beautiful ways. I am not the same today as I was even a year ago.

• My husband cooking.

• Costco.

• Making “Super” Peanut Butter Cookies (peanut butter dough with ground peanuts and peanut butter chips).

• My menses is consistent and healthy.

• Grapefruit.

• New ChapSticks.

• A text message from a friend I haven’t heard from in a while.

• Progresso soup.

• Music.

Gratitude List #2

"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
—Ernest Hemingway

When I got sober, they constantly pushed gratitude lists. I can still hear the old, weathered faces telling me to have “an attitude of gratitude,” and me thinking, Easy for you to say!

Cause they were people who’d been sober for decades—people with spouses, houses, cars less than five years old, and probably health insurance. Meanwhile, I scribbled down whatever scraps of gratitude I could find. In those first few months, gratitude was simple: a warm coat from my friend’s neighbor who was giving things away, or a filling lunch because someone from the program took me out after a meeting.

I discovered that gratitude comes more naturally when you have nothing, not when you have everything. It’s harder to feel once your life settles and survival is no longer day-to-day. A free lunch hits differently when you genuinely don’t know how you’re going to eat that day. A free lunch today is a nice perk, but I would have been fine to pay.

Even now that I am sober for years—now that I have a spouse and a house and all those things I once envied—I wonder if what I’m writing is a true gratitude list or simply a list of things that I like. But then again, isn’t appreciation just another form of gratitude? Maybe there’s something meaningful in being grateful for things that aren’t about life or death.

How lovely, really, to be grateful for Christmas decorations and painted toenails instead of not starving today. It is a genuine gratitude list—but the shift is noticeable. Back then, I felt lucky simply to be alive, to pay my rent, to eat, to wake up another day. The things I was once profoundly grateful for are now givens, and that, too, is something to be grateful for.

• Nail stickers.
• Watching Christmas movies with my husband in the dark.
• How much my husband loves A Christmas Carol—and how we watch every version since 1930.
• Setting up my 2026 planner.
• Neighbors waving.
• Baggy, comfy sweatpants.
• Reviewing my month and realizing November was swell.
• My husband making dinner.
• Picking out a crystal each morning to carry.
• Sleeping naked.
• Green tea.
• Quiet moments to myself.
• Cats playing with something that's not a cat toy.
• Christmas decorations.
• Silly dance sessions.
• The tooth my husband broke six months ago is finally pulled! I can’t wait for a steak.
• That pine tree in the neighborhood that’s at least 100 feet tall, decorated with multicolored lights every year.
• Pancakes for dinner.
• Making gratitude lists.
• Kissing cat foreheads and ears.
• Being able to donate to charities.
• The smell of my face cream.
• My house slippers.
• Finishing a journal and starting a new one.
• Early to bed. Early to wake. Restful sleep in between.
• Sharing something personal with someone and being met with kindness.

Gratitude List #1

Recently, I had some time off and read through a good portion of my writing. I was struck by how I came across as a depressed, jaded person with low self-esteem.

I even fed a few pieces into ChatGPT, which confirmed that the writing was, in fact, depressing, jaded, and subtly conveying low self-esteem. Actually, it said "self-loathing." That feels a little extreme.

Now that it has that in its system, ChatGPT can only get better at producing depressing, jaded, low-self-esteem answers. All of humanity is headed for a losing streak if I’ve managed to make my negativity virtually viral.

While I don’t suggest judging a book by its cover, it’s safe to say that when you seem depressed even to yourself, you might actually be what you seem. Yes—perhaps I seem depressed and jaded because I am.

Alas, a pivot. Almost fourteen years ago, I was told the cure for self-pity was gratitude. So why not try it again? It worked once before—why not now?

This isn’t a comprehensive list of everything I’m grateful for, just the things I’ve been appreciating lately:

• The sound of my husband snoring next to me.

• The  way he grinds coffee beans in the morning.

• Not worrying about how to pay our bills—a luxury for many right now.

• Fiction books, especially those written for young adults.

• Watching classic sitcoms where the husband and wife truly love each other.

• Writing letters.

• My husband making the turkey and oyster stuffing for Thanksgiving.

• My heart beating strong after a short, fun little dance.

• Hugging my husband while standing.

• Listening to Pitbull songs.

• Long showers.

• Painted toenails.

• Baking sweet treats.

• When it’s cold & the feral cats stay in the heated houses later into the day.

• Sleeping in.

• Being able to buy Christmas presents for my friends.

• Being alive and relatively healthy.

• Doing the Wordle in the morning with my husband.