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Day three of gratitude week: the big things.

Sometimes it’s the stuff that stares you directly in the face. Sometimes, the things that are two inches in front of me are the things I’m overlooking. I don’t even realize I’m chewing with my mouth open. And nobody wants to see that.

Not often enough do I go back and see my world of today through the eyes of 17-year-old me. The unloved, misunderstood, lonely, angry person who hadn’t discovered alcohol yet. The teenage nihilist that had already decided that happy normal wasn’t in the cards.

The kid me believed he would spend his life alone;
and never find someone who loved him,
or have a family,
or a job worth doing,
or a home worth living in,
or a car worth driving,
or a team worth rooting for,
or shoes worth wearing.

My life at the time was a severely depressing Shel Silverstein book.

Gratitude can be a bitch when everything has a worth attached to it: a value, an assessment. Because assessing leads to comparing, which leads to unhappiness.

Today: See your life through the kid’s eyes. He should start weeping with relief.

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