Finding Gratitude...a few days late

Gratitude.  This one has perplexed me for years.  I have always recognized its importance, but figuring out just how to practice it? Well, this is where I’ve always searched for answers.  For a list-maker, you would think that it comes naturally.  That I could just sit down, jot a few ideas in writing and will the positive forces to overtake the day.  But that didn’t work for me.  And I always wondered why.  I didn’t necessarily stay in a negative state.  I just knew that the exercise wasn’t doing what it was intended to do.  I had an expectation around the actions themselves.  Because there was usually some kind of major obstacle, some desperate life happening taking focus, so it was just too much to move past, and the exercise was wasted effort.  The words made it to paper, but never transformed into anything other than graphite and compressed wood.  And truth be told, I’m pretty sure that when I made this list, I was making another list simultaneously, at least mentally…of all the things I’m NOT grateful for.  Not to be negative.  I already said that’s not me.  I’m a smiler, man.  But just to take note of what needed action, you know?  What things were standing in the way.

I’m not sure that was ever recommended.  Probably defeats the purpose.

This is the first morning without my children in the house.  They’ve been here for two weeks, through the Thanksgiving holiday, and left for their father’s house yesterday afternoon.  And I’m struck with writing about what I believed was supposed to be my focus for the last week.  Gratitude.   I mean it was THANKSGIVING!  Isn’t every blog writer supposed to write about GRATITUDE at THANKSGIVING?

I haven’t written the past week, either.  Consumed with kids being home for the break (which was all last week), working, cooking, being sick for the first time in sobriety (that was a struggle), traveling (you KNOW I had to straighten the house before we left), beginning Christmas decorating (I say beginning, because I don’t want to lie.  I ain’t inspired yet).  Schedules were dictated, expectations assumed, and it was my job to bring it all to fulfillment.  And did I?  Hmmmm…..maybe.  And am I grateful?  Ummm……maybe, again. 

The last week seemed to just start rolling along, gaining momentum, even picking up more with it along the way.  But it also felt directionless, as obvious as the focus seemed to be.  I even tried to put mindfulness and gratitude on my packing list.  But they ended up the last items, uncrossed on the list, and staring me in the eyes with that look of disapproval.  

And now, as I’m trying to slow down a bit, I find that it’s not easy.  Where is my list?  Where are the kids?  Where is my inspiration?

Please don’t get me wrong.  I am not feeling "restless, irritable and discontent."  That’s a phrase people in recovery give to being “dry drunk-” when someone isn’t working a spiritual program, but also isn’t drinking.  Because I AM working a spiritual program.  And this is what it looks like.  I hope that’s okay.  

Because I know exactly what’s expected this time of year.  I know that I can post loving family pics on Facebook, and catchy phrases about thankfulness, and everyone will see all is well.   

Nothing is wrong.  I just don’t do peace very well.  Gratitude isn’t the major problem.  It’s just been a long time since something wasn’t highlighted on my list of current resentments.  Whew!  Really? 

No one around me is in crisis?  I’m not being threatened in any way?

I’m not exactly used to dealing with this kind of neutrality.  In the past, things were either good.  Or they were bad.  Mostly bad, and it took a whole lot of physical, emotional and mental stamina to endure it all.  And also Chardonnay.  Yes, spiritual stamina was missing from the sentence a line back.  I doubted that it was actually important.   

So now, I’m faced with the recognition that: Work is good.  Family is good.  Life.  Is good. 

This is my list-making.  This is my spiritual self, working out the list in my mind, which happens to be making it into this post.

When I first got separated from my ex-husband, I thought the newfound independence would be a relief.  That without daily negativity and blame, peace would come.  Well, unfortunately, that was not my experience. I couldn’t be grateful for a new life, because being away from my children half of the time was just too painful.  I stepped over those feelings that laid right outside my closed bedroom door every night, even when my children were in the house.  Tried to ignore the fact that the resentment was always waiting for me in the morning, annoyed that I didn’t let it in the room while I drank my nightly Chardonnay.  And after a while, its presence didn’t even bother me too much.  In the morning, I could step right over it without any notice at all, because I had things to do.  I had other things to focus on.  And I knew I didn’t have to see it again until I was alone.

Alone.  That was always the scariest part. 

So, why now, in this morning hour, do I finally feel peace?  Why now, when finally alone, do I notice gratitude? 

Yes, Mike is upstairs, but he is still sleeping soundly.  And I almost feel guilty for the peace that I feel.  Does that mean I’m a bad person?  A bad mother?  A bad wife?  Because what I hoped for all along has finally come?

I can’t do that. Why do we DO that?  I can’t afford to feel guilty for wanting peace. 

It has finally arrived.  And for some unknowing reason, I finally feel like writing too! 

There was an absence of both stillness and inspiration, and I truly didn’t know if each would return.  I’m grateful that they both joined me this morning.  I’m grateful for gratitude itself.  Evidently, it takes me a while to get there.  Not because of a scheduled date.  Not because the list is fulfilled.  Not because the pictures show me smiling.

I am grateful that I have a morning like this one, where my thoughts are clear and present, where my schedule is free, where my heart is full.  I am grateful that I have finally found peace during the time when my children are absent, when they don’t rely on me to fulfill their immediate needs.  And it’s taken me five years to get here. 

I’m not sure that gratitude can happen until acceptance happens first.  Right? 

I’m not sure that peace comes until I’m still enough to even notice its presence. 

And I’m not sure that inspiration comes until I have all of the above.

Sure, it’s easy to write when I’m fired up about something.  I’ve already done that in a few posts.  Like the angst-ridden artist who finds inspiration after a hard breakup and writes a heart-wrenching love song to his lover. 

But what happens when I’m not a struggling artist?  Am I even an artist at all?  Do I have to cut off my own ear to prove my pain and worthiness to create?

Um….I like my ears.  And I like the peace that comes from being sober and thankful.  If this post isn’t as awe-inspiring as others, it’s because I don’t have anything to step over this morning.  I opened my bedroom door to an empty hallway, shuffled down the stairs, made coffee, and started to write. 

And it feels damn good.  

I’m inspired once again to give to others, because I’m still enough to notice that I have everything I need.  Yes, I’m grateful for all of the easy things to put on my list.  Food, shelter, family.  Love. 

And this writing is proof that I’m also grateful for what used to bring me pain.  That solitude can bring freedom of self.  That acceptance can bring peace. 

I am still a good wife and mother, even alone sitting on this couch.  But only because I’ve worked hard to get here.  And only because I’m present enough to begin my list.