"I am writing all of this in response to the Coronavirus, dear friend, which is currently rampaging the globe, and has now sprung up in our very own city of San Antonio, TX."
It's made me realize how important it is to just talk. And to do it face to face. To feel safe. To know there's zero judgment. To actually look into someone's eyes and know without a doubt that they're listening with every fiber of their being.
Gratitude is never first on the scene. Like anger, it's a reaction only, more often a choice, and when consistently pursued, a habit. Like other emotions, it's a fuel. But unlike depressive states, it's not a fuel that burns me down to ashes, it's a fuel that drives me forward. It's flexible to any kind of attack, has no end, and it can roll any which way. Like a sphere, I suppose. Love is also like that. To me, gratitude in the midst of my circumstances, no matter what they are, is an expression of love toward my God; an unwritten love letter lived out.
Or maybe I'm just telling you all of this to make me feel better. I'm not violent--I'm prone to yelling and occasionally punching walls or slamming doors. I'm not crazy--I'm emotionally unstable and unpredictable. ...Whispered words to a fractured mirror. But the real question is, have I accepted it?
Anxiety makes everything seem momentous, sometimes to absurd, apocalyptic levels. It makes me a caricature of myself.