Lost Cause

I was late to work today because I indulged AugDog and myself in a ridiculously long walk around the neighborhood. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, I was wearing my new Birthday Trench Coat for the first time. A welcome break from the gloom that has been hovering drearily over my head.

Hubs and I had a phone conversation last night during which he insisted that I have basically been unhappy since we got married. I corrected him by saying that I have been low-grade unhappy for about three years now. Maybe longer. And I apologized for not living up to my attempts at converting to optimism. But deep down, I disagreed with him. I feel calmer, more centered, more peaceful, and less fearful than I have in about 12 years. That's saying something, I think. I don't live in fear every day. I don't feel looming dread, panic, or that unglued grasping that I thought I would live with for the rest of my life. That's not the same as "Happy", I guess, but it certainly feels to me like a dramatic upswing in outlook and emotional health.

Are there things I wish I could change about my life, my apartment, and the fact that I got married at 32 and then two months later my husband moved away for a school year? Sure. Do I wish I could commit to something to be really passionate about, throw myself into, and stand on soapboxes to shout to the world? Yes. And I would be the first to raise her hand and admit that every day I get a chance to CHOOSE joy, gratitude, abundance, and hope, but that sometimes I still choose Gloom.

It feels like hard work, sometimes, choosing joy and all that stuff. Gloom is comfortable. It feels familiar. It reminds me of someone (my old pessimist self) that I used to know. But it weighs me down. It stops me in my tracks. It convinces me that my apartment is too small, that I would be happy if I had more sunlight, that my friends are busy, that we are certainly going to eat up all of our savings before we even get a proper married start. That the future could be just as hard as the past. The Gloom whispers that everything I want to do and every change I want to make is too hard. Too costly. Gloom is cheap, easy, and abundant.

AugDog and I came in from our long walk today, and I felt refreshed and recommitted to center my life around Joy and Hope. I looked around our apartment and made a mental list of things that we could shift around to make a big difference in my experience of the space. I nuzzled my furry pup and took a deep breath and smiled. Things are looking up.

Then I got to work, and my dear friend Judi, who I call my "work mom", came to my cube for the announcement I had been dreading since she was out sick all week last week.

"I've wanted to tell you sooner, but you have been the hardest to tell. I have pancreatic cancer. I am very sick."

I hugged her and thanked her for telling me. She told me about her treatment, and how she was going to be working three days a week for as long as she could. That her new goal is to "see her first grandbaby", due in September.

And for a few minutes after she left my cube, I felt the spinning sensation that I am a lost cause. That the Swamps of Sadness will overtake me, just like they swallowed Artecs in the Never Ending Story.

Then I went to the American Cancer Society webpage and looked at their volunteer opportunities again. I started jotting notes about the iTunes playlist I am going to make for Judi, and thinking about simple things I can do for her, and for others who are struggling. And I felt a little nudge of "Aha!".

There is so much to do, and so much I can do. If only I would get off my butt and stop wallowing.