Give yourself a little gratitude mojo
Doesn’t it all feel like too much sometimes?
If only life served us soft-toss pitches, one at a time as we stood strong and tall in the batter’s box.
But no — real life can be a pitching machine on overdrive, hurling curve-balls, wild pitches and dancing knuckleballs all at once. Maybe we’re already depleted, so now we’re cowering naked as the fastballs zing by or even sting us square and hard, leaving an ugly bruise.
I’m feeling a touch of that. Just a bit overwhelmed.
My antidote is gratitude. I’m sharing my ritual, because maybe it will work for you.
Counting Down & Catching Up
Eleven days to Christmas. I want the joy, light, peace — and to give and enjoy a beautiful, festive, family time.
Yet, right now, I’m anxious about the crush of the prep: The gifts still at the store, the cleaning, baking, cooking — all as I’m catching up after losing a lot of work time in November.
Last month, a sick dog, living room under construction and the prep for Thanksgiving were the fastballs to juggle. The downside of the flexibility of working from home is the reckoning on things I postponed while taking care of what was more important then.
(Blue is almost all better, curled up against my feet, loudly snoring.)
Our details vary. I bet you too know the feeling of juggling bowling balls — stuff that seems heavier than our hands can catch and toss.
Things can Snowball
Let’s face it. The holidays are an emotionally loaded time. Funerals don’t stop. Fresh grief, especially at Christmas, leaves a lasting wound. This time often sharpens life’s losses, even the ones that have healed over. They ache more than usual, their tug on our energy greater, stronger, louder.
All as the days shrink and the darkness extends. December’s chill sets in.
All as blaring messages surround us to ENJOY this time.
What to do?
Pause for a Gratitude Lift
Gratitude is always the key, turning my outlook and any situation all the way around, starting with a simple shift.
Here is my antidote to that anxious, overwhelmed feeling, or the blues that will surely follow if I don’t manually re-set myself:
1. Stop. Just freaking stop. Don’t even look at your phone for the next five minutes. Freeze yourself. Count to three.
2. Take three big, deep breaths. Seriously. Really, truly breathe. Fill your body cavity with air starting down below your navel, all the way up your sternum up above top of your throat. As deeply and slowly as you can. Three times.
3. Name three things that you are grateful for. The big stuff, always: family, health, sunshine, the roof over my head. Little stuff like … yesterday: the fine point of a mechanical pencil, the clippity-clop of a passing horse and buggy, the comfort of a good office chair, a sip of good coffee.
And today: Amy Grant singing Alleluia repeatedly through my headphones, the warmth rising from our woodstove, the guilt-free solar twinkle lights in the backyard (now working because I realized there was an on-off switch).
Soon, thoughts of so much that feels good and gives me joy starts popping in my mind — just like popcorn that swells and fills me as three things become three more and so on. This is the welcome snowballing of gratitude and abundance.
My whole perspective shifts toward light.
4. Let’s remember the people and families struggling with health and finding peace. Been there, too. And let’s remember people struggling with clinical depression and darkness, core wounds that refuse to heal, the disease of addiction. People who for whatever reason cannot shift their perspective toward light, who cannot feel all the love around them. When I shift into a place of light and abundance, I’m in a better position to help, to care for myself, my family, my community.
5. Pray — or not. All that in itself is a prayer — but you don’t have to call it that. I believe in love above all else. If prayer works for you, maybe add some more right about here. I pray for strength and focus to do the right things to shine my light, to fulfill my purpose and be of service.
6. Decide your next most important step.
7. Remember: One Thing at a Time. Next most important thing. Start now.
The most important stuff
I’m going to step out of that batter’s box, out of the path of as many of those wild pitches as I can. Our house won’t look like the pages of a magazine. It never does. No styling crew here! It will be clean and simple and lovely. Some things will fall off my list.
I’ll use the lessons learned from last year: Shop for gifts with my mother-in-law, because she is an awesome co-conspirator. Last year, we bought the Pie Face game for the little kids. My nephew squealed in delight as he turned the dial until the game’s plastic hand flung a pile of whipped cream into the faces of his cousins, aunts and uncles, one-by-one as they took their turn and we all reveled in a child’s joy.
Even Grandpa took his turn. (Not Grandma, now that I think of it …)
Finally, when I’m tired and getting cranky, I’ll try to follow my own advice. I’ll stop and rest. I’ll sink into the music, pause to look at the lights, take a few deep breaths, remember my blessings — maybe even take a nap.
Wishing you and your families love, light, peace, health, and joy this holiday season — however you and yours celebrate.
I needed your words this morning. I also finish the day with a pause to list five things I’m thankful for, but realized I didn’t do that last night. It does reshape my viewpoint like I’ve turned the binoculars in the direction to see the wider view.
You’re a talented writer.
Thank you Connie! I needed YOUR words this morning. Much appreciated. Binoculars are a great metaphor. Sometimes we need to pan out to see the beauty 🙂
Lovely reminders, written well, as always.
Thank you, sweet Karen!