Yesterday longtime reader Dawna commented:
You guys look HAPPY. Not just Smile for the Camera happy, but Life is Good happy.
It meant a lot, and it also made me realize how different my outlook on life is now than it was in the past.
Growing up, I was something of a pessimist (or as I termed it, a "realist"). I had high hopes for other people, but I was pretty sure things wouldn't work out for me. I constantly prepared myself for the worst-case scenario, from losing all my writing to losing my parents or my pets or my friends. In Chicago, I carried all my favorite things around in a Franklin Planner just in case my apartment was robbed while I was at work.
Beloved is a take-it-in-stride sort of guy, and I railed against that for years, convinced he really didn't understand the problem or he wouldn't be able to dismiss it so. Um, yeah. He totally understood the problems, only he wasn't blowing them completely out of proportion like I was. It wasn't uncommon in that period of time for Steph or Blondie to say "you're catastrophising again." But! Somebody had to!
I battled depression while in the grip of my eating disorder in my late teens and early twenties, and after the little angel was born, I experienced a really bad bout of anxiety. I'd spend three hours a day crying and thinking through new strategies for how to deal with nonexistent or trivial problems instead of powering forward in a way that might actually help.
Since then, I've read books on happiness, learned it's possible to readjust your happiness setpoint, seen therapists, took medicine, and had long talks with my husband about my worries. We abandoned parent points and started spending each day dwelling on what we wanted to do and what went right instead of chores and drudgery and losses. I told Cagey the other day that nothing in my life has changed except the way I look at it, and it's true.
Most days, it's working. Despite the loss of Bella and a really hard week at work last week and all the rejection I'm getting from my lit agent search, I'm content. Things that would've driven me to the deck sobbing two years ago are easier to push aside. I'm learning to deal with problems by thinking about what would make me feel better, whether it's talking with a friend or adopting a new cat or watching my daughter's ballet class.
Focusing on what would make me feel better and not what is making me feel bad is helpful and obvious, and I wish I could get back all those years I didn't know how to do it. But if I hadn't had them, I wouldn't appreciate the difference now.
I'm not saying my life is sunlight and roses all the time. It's the same as it always was. There are still unexpected bills and laundry and aches and pains. I am now choosing to give them the absolute minimum focus necessary to address the issues before moving on to something more enjoyable. I'm also forcing myself not to anticipate problems. (As much as is possible for me.)
I'm trying not to beat my head against the wall anymore. It works so much better to just walk around it.
