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The reason gratitude is such a boring topic is because I have zero idea of it as a concept, as a feeling, as a reality. For years I wasn’t grateful for anything. All good things in my life where tempered with an onslaught of “yeah, but”s; forever explaining how it could’ve been better, what I wished I could’ve done, etc.

That’s not perfectionism; that’s self-hatred. If you let people walk all over you, they will. Once I understood that, I’d explode everyone out of the water and keep them at a distance. I’m pro-actively buffering, nothing personal. It was made abundantly clear to even good friends: you’re not gonna get close. Not really. Sorry.

Which is ignorant and insane, since there is no evidence that these people, these friends, are the same people that destroyed my psyche twenty-five years ago.

Day Two of Gratitude Week: The Little Things.

I’m special because I’m damaged? Please, that’s pretty weak. Quit whining and pay attention. The shortlist is this: every night I sleep in a warm bed with a belly full of food. Sober. And I dare ask more from the all great and powerful 12 step program?

Well, yes. Because the promises tell me that there’s more to this whole thing than just not drinking.

The secret: Live the day right-sized. Everything else follows. Be grateful I’m not in charge.

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