I’ve had a lot of conversations over the years about how we
respond to our negative (and positive) experiences through a lens of
relativity. How the intensity of our problems and our capacity to feel
gratitude are affected by what we know, not necessarily what we know is out
there.
There are times to strive for self-actualization (i.e. it could
be better), and times to take a big ol’ reality check and realize it could be
worse. I’ve thought about this personally and, truly, there is a different mindset in
recognizing that I live a remarkably privileged life and then actually understanding
how to process that rationally in my day-to-day happenings.
Like this crazy rash I’ve had for more than a month now. (I
know it seems a bit indiscreet to talk about rashes so openly, but it’s not
like I contracted it through some kind of scandalous behavior. And it’s not
like anyone who has seen me in the last few weeks hasn’t already gotten an
eyeful of it—not to mention an earful about it. Sorry friends!)
It is pervasive (well, practically,
thank goodness). And it itches like—pardon my French—une sale putain. If I could bottle how it feels when I scratch it,
I could compete with Viagra.
In my tiny bubble of bliss, this is a massive problem. The
fact that no medical professional has yet determined what it is, or been able
to adequately treat it, is slowly driving me mad. And did I mention it itches?
It’s frustrating and uncomfortable, yes. But you know what?
I’ve been able to visit a doctor’s office five times in the past four weeks. I’ve
had access to a prescription within an hour of diagnosis every time. I can
afford to pay for all of this. I have a job to go back to after my appointments,
and the sanctuary of my air-conditioned home where I can lie on an ice-pack
until it melts. And then go to the freezer and grab another.
In short, I have no problems. Only blessings that are trying
to make sure I’m paying attention, I think.
Too many to count... |
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