Yesterday, in a hospital gift shop, I appreciated this reminder that it’s time to celebrate you.
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Time to celebrate you, me, and everything else in this blog post.
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Time to celebrate you and the Daily Bitch, perhaps with a cheeseburger and a nap.
Here’s what I find when I search for “time to celebrate you.”
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Now, it’s time to celebrate you with my heartfelt thanks.
When days are crappy, what makes you happy?
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When days are crappy, cats, chocolate, music, and connecting with those I love (including blogging) make me happy.
Here’s what I find when I search for “when days are crappy” on YouTube.
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When days are crappy, I focus on gratitude for all my blessings, including YOU.
Last night, after I unexpectedly saw a huggable animal at the end of a difficult day at work, I asked this question on Twitter:
I didn’t hug that huggable kitty who was lounging on the top of a car in the lot where I had parked for my hectic and challenging day at the hospital. However, hanging out with that cat helped me feel more huggable.
I don’t know why human beings often feel less huggable when we are stressed out or in emotional distress — the very times when we would benefit greatly from hugs.
I do know that when I got home from work I asked my husband Michael for a hug, which helped me feel more huggable.
Do you see anything huggable in my other images for today?
No matter how you feel about lawyers, there are many huggable things on that list today, including “Louie Louie” which inspired my huggable son when he was a very huggable 12 year old.
Thanks to all the huggable creatures who help me blog every day, including YOU!
Welcome ….
… to my happy place.
Every day, this blog is my happy place, because I choose to focus on
rather than
Sometimes, I get bored with humans who focus on those other things.
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I look for photos and stories to make this my happy place.
While that dog doesn’t look happy, I saw that at somebody else’s happy place.
Here‘s “My Happy Place” by Odds.
What’s your happy place?
Thanks to all who make this my happy place, including YOU.
Six years ago, on Valentine’s Day, I wrote another “Lost and Found” post, “dedicated to my boyfriend/inamorato/whatever Michael.” I’ve lost the need to use those words to describe Michael since we found ourselves calling each other husband and wife on December 27, 2019.
Yesterday, I realized I had lost my wallet when I was at a doctor’s appointment. I immediately lost all focus on everything else. I found the memory of looking in my wallet to make sure I hadn’t lost the card I needed for the doctor’s visit while I was walking by Fenway Park (where the Boston Red Sox lost lots of games before they found themselves in the World Series). I figured I lost the wallet soon after that.
I found the phone number of somebody I thought might be able to help me find what I’d lost. Here’s the phone conversation of me trying not to lose it:
Person Answering Phone: Hello?
Me: Hello! I need to reach the Ipswich Garage.
P.A.P.: This is not the Ipswich Garage. This is the parking office.
Me: I know! I need to talk to somebody at the Ipswich Garage. I’ve lost my wallet!
P.A.P.: You can’t call the garage.
Me: I need to contact them. I think I dropped my wallet while I was walking to the garage.
P.A.P. I can call the garage. What do you want me to tell them?
Me: Tell them I dropped my wallet. I think it’s near the statues outside of Fenway Park.
P.A.P.: If your wallet is not in the garage, they can’t help you.
Me (losing the ability to express myself in words): Arrrghhh!
P.A.P. Give me your phone number.
Have you ever lost your wallet? I was thinking about all the time lost in the future, cancelling credit cards, getting a new license, etc. etc. I lost the ability to be in the present as the medical assistance tried to measure my blood pressure (she couldn’t). When I walked into my doctor’s office, I told her I’d lost my wallet and wanted to leave to look for it. My doctor, whom I luckily found eleven years ago (and whom you can find posts about here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here), found a lot of empathy for my situation and told me to go. At that moment, my cell phone rang.
Me: Hello?
P.A.P.: Hello. They found your wallet.
Me: I love you.
P.A.P.: Thank you.
Here’s the lost-and-found wallet:
That wallet is made out of recycled billboards and I’m so glad it was found. (If you click on the link in the previous sentence, you’ll find that the wallet was lost and found before.)
Here are all the other new photos I’ve found on my phone this morning:
I’m so glad I found
when “I” becomes “we,” “illness” becomes “wellness”
… which was posted on Facebook yesterday by a group therapist I love.
I’ve found a lot of tunes titled “Lost and Found” on YouTube. Here‘s one of them, by Jorja Smith:
I’m hoping to have found comments about this lost-and-found post in the near future.
No matter what I’ve lost and found over the years, it’s always been easy for me to find gratitude. Thanks to all who helped me find what I needed to create todays post, including YOU.
Who do you miss in your life, here and now?
Sometimes, I am more aware of who I am missing than I am of who’s here. Then, I redirect my awareness and attention to those who are showing up.
That helps.
Who do you miss in my recent photos?
I miss the person who is singing “Miss Otis Regrets.”
Would you miss me if I didn’t express my thanks, for being here, at the end of each blog post?
Several times in therapy groups this week, there was spontaneous applause, as people supported each other’s perspectives and progress.
I remember attending an “Opening the Heart” weekend workshop many years ago, where each one of us received thunderous, sustained applause after introducing ourselves. I still vividly recall how that applause felt, after I had revealed myself and my vulnerabilities to many strangers.
How do you respond to applause?
Last night, I was surprised by the timing of the applause to my latest original song, “Shameless Appeals for Applause.”
I now shamelessly appeal for applause for my photos from yesterday:
No matter what kind of comment you leave below, you’re sure to get applause from me.
Gratitude is a kind of applause, so I’m now clapping for all those who helped me create today’s post and — of course! — YOU.
When there are so many catastrophes around, how do you stop catastrophizing?
Do you share what you observe?
When the cupboard is bare, do you stock it?
Do you imagine a world without cancer?
Do you keep calm and carry on?
Do you get in touch with your strengths?
Do you change your life?
Do you try to see your way through all the clutter?
Do you let go of judgment and cognitive distortions, focusing on what helps?
Do you try meditation?
Do you turn to music?
Do you share your catastrophizing with other people?
Do you forgive yourself and others for mistakes? Do you gird yourself for the next catastrophe? Or, do you focus on gratitude?
When I help people join my therapy groups, I tell them we will work on doing more of what helps and less of what doesn’t help. I help people understand that by saying, “What helps and what doesn’t help might include thoughts, behaviors, and other people.” Because it helps to change old habits by writing things down, I helpfully suggest they keep track of what helps and what doesn’t help them.
Because it helps to know you’re not alone, I explain that I also keep track of what helps and what doesn’t help me.
What helps me?
What doesn’t help me?
Does it help to look at these photos?
What also helps me is gratitude, so thanks to all who helped me create today’s post and — of course! — to YOU.
My attachments include
Last night, my therapy group discussed the topic of “Attachments.” I wrote this:
If you’re attached to easy reading, here’s what I wrote there:
Attachments
What is your personal experience of attachment?
I get very attached to things. Lately, I’ve been working on being less attached. I am probably going to throw out a lot of things in the next few months.
My iPhone is a useful attachment for taking pictures.
I’m trying to lose my attachment to telling myself “I should have known better.”
I’m very attached to music, including this:
What are your thoughts about attachments? Please attach a comment to this post, below.
I do not want to lose my attachment to gratitude, so I am attaching this thank you note to all who helped me attach this post to my blog today and to you — of course! — for attaching yourself here, now.