At times, when I stop and attempt to be “thankful”, I realize that I have life so absurdly good that it’s almost embarrassing. And I don’t mean in terms of the amount of money I bring home on my paycheck or the amount of luxury stuff I have sitting around the house (we have one (1) luxury item, a hot tub). I mean in terms of intangibles, tangibles, opportunities, everything.
I’m employed and have been so since May of 1998. Same job, even, although I’m on my third employer. I’ve got a great work situation where I am respected and valued and am not over-managed. I’ve got a nice house to live in. I live in a nice part of the country that rarely if ever has disaster-level weather. I’ve been married 21 years and counting to someone I’m still in love with. I’ve gotten to go to Europe this year and in a few weeks am going to Curaçao. I’m fortunate to have a few friends who are willing to put up with my neuroses. (Thanks again, folks!) I have four excellent kitties (up from three as of a month or so ago). I’ve got skills and knowledge that serve me well in life. I’m white, male, and just ooze with privilege. But at least I know that I was basically born on second base. I’m under no illusions of having hit a double.
Did I get everything I wanted in life? No. I didn’t get to have kids. I still have a lot of headaches. I’ve been diagnosed with major depression. My blood pressure and cholesterol are both higher than I’d like them to be. I never did write the great American novel.
¡Ay de mí! I’ve got it so bad, don’t I?
I’ve been absurdly fortunate in life and feel kind of guilty about it. But I am aware of, and thankful for, my many, many blessings. And I hope all of y’all, out there in the world, are happy and healthy and full of joy this holiday season.