Habitual Gratitude

Today I am grateful for a chance to run into the sunrise this morning. I am also grateful for a family wedding that will bring many of us together this weekend. Cancer treatment and surgeries were on my mind yesterday as I marked another anniversary post-diagnosis. From there, things went flat. As in a flat chest thanks to bilateral mastectomies in December of 2008. I had months to prepare for the mastectomies, but nothing can truly prepare you. I simply had to go through it and recover. That wasn't always simple or easy, but it was possible. I am here, healed, accepting my flatness. I chose not to have reconstruction and can tell you now that it was clearly the best option for me. Flat may describe my chest terrain, but it does not fit with my outlook on life. I am motivated and inspired more often than not, but only because I have learned to tap into power sources beyond myself. Speaking of flat, alcohol wasn't flat, it had fizz. (I never let it sit there long enough to...

Today I am grateful for my health and to be able-bodied and mobile. I am also grateful for the perspective that difficult life experiences can help bring to my consciousness. In May of 1985, one disease had me. In May of 2008, a second disease entered my life. I hadn't asked to become an alcoholic and I certainly didn't ask to become a breast cancer patient. But there it was. One of my biggest fears becoming reality. Six years ago today I heard "You have cancer." Two of my seven sisters had faced similar diagnoses in 2004 and 2006. We are among the fortunate, all three plugging along in life all these years later. There are no guarantees, for anyone, but I guarantee you that since May of 2008 I have had a different perspective on what "the promise of a new day" means. It's like driving down the interstate and looking for the exit you want, but instead you have to veer off and take a different exit you really didn't plan to take. You feel lost a...

Today I am grateful for exercise and endorphins. I am also grateful for the smell of a good meal being prepared. In early May of 1985, I made my first serious attempt to quit drinking. I had tried to quit before, after a particularly rough night or time or after I cut through my own denial enough to realize what shape I was in. Those attempts lasted usually only days or weeks, sometimes only hours. This time, thanks in part to the concerns expressed by my friends, as I spoke about in yesterday's post, the length I quit ended up being over a year. 464 days. But who is counting, right? The fog cleared a bit and I felt good about being sober. At least I wasn't accumulating more hangovers, blackouts, unhealthy choices, and risky behaviors to add to my guilt and shame. Only years later did I realize trying to quit on my own was itself unhealthy and risky. I confided in a few close friends during this time, but didn't talk to my family about it. I went to see a peer counsel...

Today I am grateful for little reminders of recovery wisdom as I move through my days. I am also grateful for cool breezes on warm days. In recent Mays I have been thinking more about May of 2008. That is when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. But May of 1985 is also significant in my life's experience. It was in early May of that year, while finishing up my sophomore year of college, that I had friends share their concern for my drinking. It wasn't the first time concern had been expressed to me. And I certainly had my own concerns. It was the first time, however, that I actually did something with that concern. The semester had ended and having a party was appropriate. Getting very drunk before nightfall wasn't. I know my friends Deb and Zoe tried to talk to me that night. I blogged about Deb, who I refer to as "Lifesaver #2" in this post . I very much appreciate what Deb and Zoe both did for me at that time. It took strength and courage to confront me and...

Today I am grateful for safe travels this weekend, the hospitality of my friend Faith and her family, and the happy celebration of my friend Deb's daughter's wedding. Faith and Deb are old friends, as in we've known each other for over three decades. Old friends are wonderful friends to have. The history shared and the insights drawn from experience can be gotten no other way than over time. We met in our teens and are now approaching 50. That's plenty of history and ample insights. I am grateful our friendships have lasted and that we continue to make time for one another. Congratulations to the newlyweds Tiffany and Cody as they begin their married life together. New beginnings are full of hope and excitement and they should be. I appreciated the pastor who led the service on Saturday. Her words and the way the vows were spoken reminded me of the importance of the vows I made to my husband Darcy nearly 16 years ago. I couldn't tell you the exact words, but the...

Today I am grateful for our front patio and the relaxing and observing I can do there. I am also grateful for my sense of sight. Thanks to eyes that work, I can see this when I look out our living room window: Spring is in bloom in Minnesota. It takes some patience, but it is sure worth it. My optic nerve makes the view possible and my olfactory nerve heightens the pleasure with fresh scents no perfume or spray can replicate. That these trees have the nerve to come back after the harshest, coldest winter in decades is a testimony to their nerves. This nerve talk gets me thinking about the many, many other nerves in our wondrous human bodies. Millions and trillions of cells and neurons. Amazing! Absolutely amazing. Those nerves carry messages, signals, transmissions, sensations. And yes, some of those transmissions can be difficult or painful. But what about the myriad of messages sent every day, every hour, every second that keep our bodies moving and minds working? What abou...

Today I am grateful for the sensational smell of flowers and trees in bloom. I am also grateful for my husband Darcy and our strong marriage. Another part of Dani Shapiro's Still Writing  that resonated with me was how she sometimes feels removed, almost distant from her own writing when she is done with it. "Who wrote that?" I have known a similar feeling when I go back to read poems or essays. "That came from me?" Granted, it's easier for a poet to forget a few lines in a poem and less likely that a novelist forgets their plot line. But there's also a sense that when a piece of writing is done, it is done. Move on and get immersed in the next story, column, essay, post. When I go back and read a poem or essay of mine and have this detached reaction, it tells me I did what I could, what I needed to do. I wrote what was meant to be written. That detached feeling may also be telling me I have made progress in moving beyond the emotions that came out a...