With no end in sight for our current hostage situation AKA quality family time, I was reminded of a practice that I learned early on in my spiritual recovery program. At the end of each day, I write down three things that I am grateful for and two things that I forgive myself for. Yesterday, I added one thing that made me laugh since, let’s face it, if we don’t find some humor out of this shit show 2020 brought with it, we will all be in the fetal position.
It is easy for me to find the gratitude in each day. Yesterday, it was the continued good health my family is having, my mother’s caregiver being back which made her extremely happy, and the best for last, the delivery of my chocolate chip cookies (60 pack) along with Reese’s Peanut Butter eggs. It’s the little things. (Don’t worry, Debbie. I will count them in my macros and I won’t eat all of them in one sitting.)
Forgiving myself can be a tad difficult. I tend to beat myself up or make excuses for my behavior. As if it is justified. But, yesterday, I was able to forgive myself for overreacting to Brian’s beliefs to this whole quarantine situation. You see, we have completely different takes on the pandemic. In the end, we were both frustrated with each other. Both claiming that we weren’t listening to one another. I set a boundary that we simply can’t talk about it. He can have his thoughts. I can have mine. But, if we are going to survive this without me ending up in an orange jumpsuit, then we simply have to abstain from sharing our opinions with each other.
I also forgave myself for my inability to motivate myself to put the final touches on my manuscript. I am at the finish line and preparing to send it to my editor mid-April, but I am slacking. But, I know myself well enough that I can’t force it. It has to flow naturally and I know that it will, eventually.
The laughter portion of my day was all Bryce. You see, we had to adopt a “quiet zone” since he started his online college classes yesterday. I was joking saying that I was his RA so there would be safety checks like fire drills. He started twerking in my doorway and said, “What? You didn’t twerk in front of your RA’s door?”. That kid. Anyway, that was the humor I needed. It erased the heaviness that lingered after my intense conversation with my spouse.
I know we say focus on the helpers in these situations. And that is all well and good, but make sure they are funny. Humor is the catalyst for helping me through this weird, twilight zone reality. Laughter really is a powerful tool.
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