Why does it take a month? Seriously, people. It’s November. How many people are posting about what they’re thankful for? Don’t worry, I won’t look for an actual answer, but we know that there are many out there writing each day.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the posts. I think they’re sweet. I enjoy seeing the range of things that people are thankful for- spouses, pets, homes, cars, jobs, friends, free time, naps, whatever hits them in the moment or something they’ve thought about for a while. My frustration is the timing and lifestyle. I wake up every morning and have my quiet time. I read scripture and pray. Often, I write out my prayers. One reason I do that is because when I write my prayers out, I always start with my thankfulness. I’m thankful for another day, another chance, a loving family, etc. Even when I want my prayers to jump right in and say, “What the heck? Where is my fair share?” I don’t. When I go outside and run in the darkness of an early morning and see the stars shining above, again I am grateful. I’m thankful for the opportunities to run and be alone. I’m thankful that the creator of the stars keeps his promises to me, even when I don’t deserve them. Let’s face it, I’m a selfish, pain in the butt, first rate complainer. And yet, my self-seeking heart still finds time to thank God every morning. I see a lot of people that write a sweet or funny post each day of November to show their thankfulness, yet surrounding, and often interspersed with these posts, are back to life as normal complaints. For some reason people can only be thankful for what they have when it’s the month of November. It’s disheartening. If you look around, truly see people, you’ll find quite a few self-serving folks out there. (I just look in the mirror or to my family for easy reference.) So often, at the heart of this entitlement is a simple explanation: a lack of gratitude. When my heart is not black as night, I have found myself to not care about little things simply because I was grateful for the opportunities in the midst. Now don’t misread this, I know I’m selfish, but I think that’s a big part of it. Like the old saying goes: Knowing is half the battle. Being thankful on a daily basis sets a reminder that we can lose anything at anytime. Once we realize that life is not in our hands, we can set aside a good amount of our selfish desires. So, I would like to challenge you, reader. Be thankful daily. Write it down. Whether you choose to broadcast your thankfulness to social media, write it in a journal, or make a wall of sticky notes, track your gratitude. I guarantee you’ll see a difference in yourself after doing so. Then challenge others. If each person reaches five people to step up to the challenge, well, gratitude will spread like Corona at Memorial Day, Voting Day, and our upcoming Thanksgiving feasts. Maybe then we’ll learn to love each other more, being thankful for what and who we have, and create a better world.
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Dear Classmates,
Did you know? When we were in class together, or ate lunch together, or played around in study hall, did you know? Did you know that depression was crippling my life? Did you know that I felt like my world was falling apart on a regular basis? My initial guess is that you didn’t. Let’s face it, you were worried about your own lives. You had your own issues. I get it. I saw them. I saw my friend become anorexic. I watched another struggle through bulimia. I saw the struggles of the sexually confused. I even assumed that the most sexually active in class were really just looking for someone to love them. But that’s because I was off on my own. I sat alone, even when people were near. I listened to it all and gave little to the conversations. I will say, when it came to my friends and their struggles with weight, I was quick to ask and offer help, despite their denials. I didn’t want my friends to suffer. So, former classmates, if you did see it, why didn’t you want to talk about it? Was it too awkward? Did you not know what to say? I get it. It’s hard to approach the subject. I understand. Those that didn’t see it, can you look back and see me? There were times of frivolous writing in my journal that got me through so much of my depression. Writings of poetry, journal entries, and even some doodles of knife pierced hearts. There was sleeping in class. No, I wasn’t that tired. I was depressed. I had no desire to lift my head. There was a quick lunch often at a full table, but the conversation was limited to just my closest friends. I couldn’t share what was going on. I’ll never forget the two times that I was noticed, seen, in my depression. One was a guy that was a year older. He met me through a mutual friend. We spent hours talking on the phone. He was a goth kid. Oversized jeans, all black, chromed anything, and Vans, of course. Yet, on the phone, he was the best friend a girl could ask for. He listened. When the bomb threat came to school and I said I was happy to go to school, maybe the bomb would take me out, he knew that I was struggling. He asked questions. He let me talk. He didn’t give me unsolicited advice. He made me laugh. He was there. The second time someone found me was in the girls’ bathroom downstairs outside of the gym. I always chose that bathroom because it was empty, but right next to the gym so I could get to practice. I was trying to muster up the strength to head to another afternoon of torture. My parents were having issues. My brother was at college, and I didn’t have much time to hang out with him. My friends were busy with their things while I was at basketball every day. Basketball was the place I felt more at home, until my coach became a nasty human that tried to make me miserable. A teammate saw me in the bathroom. She had come in quickly, but was upset that her boyfriend had broken up. When I didn’t give her the sympathy she desired, she snapped, “What do you have to be upset about? Your boyfriend didn’t just break up with you!” Oy. I guess that’s why I chose for you, my classmates to not see me. I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t want to deal with the criticism. Basically, I assumed more of you would be like the second person, rather than the first. Let’s face it, my depression would have been a burden on many of you that you wouldn’t have understood or been able to handle. But just once, I wish one of you would have tried. I wish one person would have seen me and talked. Was I all alone? I’m sure that others of you were in the same boat. Maybe we could have found solace. Alas, here we are. Classmates, if you still don’t know what it looks like when a person is clinically depressed, suffering from anxiety, or just plain hurting, I hope that you will stop every once in a while, and look. Look around you to people’s faces. Look in their eyes. Check their posture. Look for others and really see them for who they are. You just might be the first student that listened and changed my life. Sincerely, Your classmate on the other side So, I did something this week.
I voted. I know, crazy. Seems like just about everyone voted this time around. A change of pace for sure. But why would I bring it up in a blog? Everyone voted, or so it seems. The biggest reason? I think it is safe to say that nobody near me has a clear idea of who I voted for throughout the options. Although I am typically going to line up with a party, I do not claim myself to a party. That is something of a responsibility that I am not comfortable with taking on. You see, parties change. Party stances aren’t always going to stay in their lane. Why? Because people are people. People change their minds. People change their opinions, even while they’re in office. People lie as well. Let’s face it- there aren’t always good people in office at any level on any side of any line. I just can’t say to someone, “Yes, I will always back my party!” Because I can’t say that I will or that I do. Politics suck. I abhor the subject matter in all its entirety. I hate the division. I hate the conflicts. I despise debates. Why? So glad you asked. In my (hopefully) short years on earth, I have found that there aren’t always black and white answers. I mean, I can answer my short response to any situation. However, if I haven’t lived in that decision, my choice could be wrong, hurtful, insensitive, and more. I used to have opinions that stated point blank how I felt. Then I met more people. Then I went through difficult times. Then I talked with friends. I learned. I grew. I changed. I hope for the better. Unfortunately, through the years I have met some people that I have found a bit aggressive in their stance. I’m all for passion and gumption. The problem I see is that many people with end all, be all stances, take sides on items they have no experience in. And that, I struggle with. You do not know who I voted for. If you came to my house and wanted to discuss, I might. Otherwise you won’t know. It’s not that I don’t have opinions. It’s simply that I know my opinion won’t sway anyone unless we’re sitting down, enjoying a beverage of choice and engaging in an actual conversation. So please know, I did make my choices. I’m not sure I’m thrilled with them, but I did what I thought was best for the situation at hand. I won’t belittle you for your choices. I won’t ask about your choices. I just hope that you begin to think of each decision from every angle, race, gender, situation. Life is bigger than black and white. |
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May 2023
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