Take all of my whining and complaining and woe-is-me attitudes with a grain of salt – I’m utterly and thoroughly and completely and totally and redundantly grateful that I live where and how I live. It’s crazy-hot outside, but I have electricity and air-conditioning. It’s a Monday afternoon that’s not a holiday, but I have a job that allows me to work flexible hours so I can hang out with my brother and niece when they come to visit.
Hm. Upon review, this feels a little odd. I’m grateful, I’m thankful – to who whom? I don’t mean to discount the feeling, although maybe I should describe it differently. I’m happy, I’m relieved, I’m content…but I did this (with John, of course). We are here, living where we do, in our house, in the jobs we have, because of decisions we made, not because of fate or luck or, heaven forbid, God. (Hee.) So who would I be grateful to? Our circumstances? Our parents? Ourselves? All of the above? Or maybe gratitude shouldn’t be involved.
I didn’t really mean to go there. This was supposed to be a light appreciation of staying cool at home when the weather is stifling. It just came out. And I keep wanting to apologize for it, like I don’t want to sound ungrateful (there’s that word again) or cocky or anything other than…what? Assured? Confident? I certainly don’t want to come out the other side to self-righteous. Anything but that. And where is this coming from? I’ve been having a lot of conversations about standing up for yourself, valuing your own contributions, and being appreciated at work lately. The underlying message appears to be bleeding through.
So why can I easily take credit for what I do at work, but when I try to take credit for my life here, I try to apologize? Is my work persona that different? Or is it just the medium?
Just nod if you can hear me.