I’ve always struggled with Internet Gratitude. Feels too much like mayonnaise on a lens; smearing over life’s hardships so as not to mind the things that everyone does, in fact, mind. And in my darkest moments, Internet Gratitude for women looks like a tool of oppression. “No, we won’t listen to you, we won’t acknowledge your labor, now go in the corner and feel grateful for this wilted daisy in a jar. Drat, we forgot the Smuckers label.” Not my nature, that.
When I was young, admonishments to be grateful felt like shaming. I knew I was fortunate, who would not, but still I struggled as young people do and in trying to remember gratitude I’d skip right to mortification. Only a jerk would feel bad amid such abundance.
But after these last several years of painful events, no need to reiterate what they were, I feel differently. Gratitude is neither rose-pink nor umber, shameful. Gratitude, I now find to be more of a real happiness limned with sorrow which you may not be experiencing at the moment but know pretty well. Better than you might want to. When I am grateful now I am precisely because I know nothing’s guaranteed.
Somewhere between honey and vinegar. Maybe a very ripe orange, leaves attached.
Have a wonderful weekend. Nothing is guaranteed and good moments are good.
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