Thanksgiving

Thankfulness is in the air, this is the seed, the heart of worship.

When I was younger I held on to every pain I looked inward I couldn’t see anything but my own misery this was selfish and got me no relief. I was a shell with a little rock rattling around in it. I became envious of those who had the opposite problem the one where they twist all focus to themselves. I thought why do they get what they want and I’m neglected? Why do I refuse to bend to the norms that would have me speak only of myself and seek only my own pleasure? This unyielding was pride. The overreaching was pride. There was no wining.

There was a day, a point when I noticed that I complained a lot. I mean a lot. Every day, every time I talked to myself, it was in every prayer I prayed everywhere, complaining. I didn’t want to be a complainer. They’re all so negative. So I began to write thanks. Because writing is permanent and if I could be in the habit of writing thanks and thanking more people and things I wouldn’t complain as much.

I am surrounded by complainers. It makes practicing thanksgiving harder. Because complaining sets off a chain reaction. I find myself saying; well you think you have it hard I have it worse. Most of the time I can stop myself from actually saying it out loud but the fact is I’ve thought it. Obviously I still complain. It’s kind of the only way to let people know you’re bothered by something but I hope I don’t feed it. I mean isn’t it lame to listen to the same five complaints over and over from the same person constantly? I hope I’m not that person.

So what’s the difference between complaining and expressing genuine desires/needs? Uhm, I don’t know yet.

Thanksgiving, and I don’t mean the American holiday but the discipline of giving thanks, has definitely changed me, before I was an anxious mess. It was bad. I remember spending many, many evenings alone feeding the anger of being alone and complaining to myself. What was I doing? There was no way anyone could help me because no one knew and they didn’t know because my pride told me they should care enough to find out. That’s what you’re up against with depression that grew from anxiety. Now, though it has been very hard for me, I’m opening up and this gives others an opportunity to help.

I still have a long, long way to go. I still don’t open up as freely as I want.