Count it all joy

When I am told to be positive, I instantly think, "Do I have a choice?" But I know that I actually do: It's to choose to stay miserable. 

I used to feel the need to shift quickly, after so many wasted years of wallowing in misery. But now I've developed the capacity to allow myself to shift slowly, to feel the heartbreak--any heartbreak--but not let it consume me, then find ways to feel good again.

This anger is a new feeling for me, and I don't like it. So I am letting it sink into insignificance, like I have everything else that I have held dear that turned into poison in my hands, so I can make room for compassion and forgiveness. 

It is work, but I am teaching myself to love the work, because it is work towards a better, braver, and more loving me. 

Speaking of work, I was scrolling through social media and I found this line from The Bible: Count it all joy. It is part of a longer line that says we should be thankful when we face trials because it develops our faith and patience. 

It reminded me of something Stephen Colbert said in a GQ interview about his own personal tragedy, which he expounds on in an interview with Anderson Cooper: "What punishments of God are not gifts?"

It is a gift to exist, he says, and being grateful for existing means being grateful for all of it, even the things you most wish had not happened.  

Earlier today, I had an excruciating stomachache. I spent a good thirty minutes running to and from the toilet, and, for a couple of minutes, I felt like it was going to be the death of me. 

I'd been miserable the past few days, except for this gift of a weekend, and at the height of my drama, I'd have gladly welcomed obliteration, but now that I was actually faced with it, I was thinking: Please, God, not yet.

When the pain from the stomachache was finally gone, the other pain I'd been navigating was put in perspective. 

I am grateful. 

Count it all joy, Dat. We count it all joy.

'how is your heart?'

Four friends catch up over pasta
By Amy Kay

I’m doing better / they need to run more tests / we’re moving in together / I’m never dating again / how is your dad? / how is your heart? / how are you dealing with the state of the world? / I love your new hair color / I’m on new meds / remember how young we used to be? / let’s build a commune / we can have sheep / and goats? / yes, and dancing / I missed you / it’s been too long / this is delicious — the sauce, the salad / this night / all of it.

Tomorrow I'll be softer

Or maybe not tomorrow. Maybe it will be the day after. Or the day after that. But one day, soon, I will be softer, and I will find it in me to think of you fondly and understand where you were coming from and wish you all the happiness you deserve, plus the happiness I had imagined you would have with me. 

And that would be enough, and I would be grateful.

Ready, sing

Today in forgotten memories that suddenly pop back up: I was probably in Grade 3 or 4, and I was picked by a teacher to lead the singing of the Bedan Hymn at the flag ceremony. This was a totally random selection, but they did often choose students who weren't shy--or so they thought. 

I was super shy (I still am!) but I guess I masked it well?

Leading just meant saying, "Ready, sing," and then conducting the singing. At eight, I had no idea of what really needed to be done much less how to do it. I didn't know beat and time signatures (I don't think we'd discussed it yet in music class), and, to me, leading just looked like waving your hands about. 

So that's what I did. In front of two hundred or so people. 

Most of the other kids didn't care or didn't know what I was doing was wrong, but, of course, there were a few students (who were taking extra music lessons) who told me so, some of them a bit snootily. 

And so did the teacher who had picked me! She, who didn't even check if I knew what to do before she gave me the responsibility.

I used to cringe hard every time I remembered that day, especially when I was still in Bene, where I spent most of my pre-university days. Of course, more embarrassing things have happened in the many years since then, and that memory was filed way beneath all the other things that made me cringe about myself. 

It had stayed forgotten, until today.

There are things that push you out of your comfort zone and turn into those magical "But what if you fly?" moments. This was not one of them. 

But I did learn from that teacher: I learned to do better and check for skills before giving out responsibilities and not to expect people to know things they hadn't been given the chance to learn yet. 

And I learned to remember that the pause between "ready" and "sing" is there because you really need to give people time to be ready.

My theme for 2024: Yes, and ...

It's been a while since I posted. Hello, I'm still around. It's late to be posting about the start of 2024, but, as always, it's better late than never. 

First, I do have a theme for 2024, and I thought of it way before Ariana Grande released it as a single: Yes, and ... I picked it up from improv. It refers to the kind of thinking where you accept what another improviser has said and build up on it. 

I figure this year is the year I tame my overthinking and automatic mental rejection of the unfamiliar. This year will also be the year I teach myself to be more accepting of opportunities that come my way. 

Yes, Universe, and ...