Every day, I make a conscious effort to choose to be happy about me, my work, and my life.
I fell out of my chair at work yesterday- leaning over to pick up a piece of rice cake that fell on the floor. It turns out that a hungry dieter and a chair on rollers and a mat are not a good combination. It's funny. I hurt, but it's funny. Rather than whine about the sore elbow, shoulder and hip, and the fact that I'm still hungry, and haven't lost any weight, I'm choosing to be happy about this. It livened up my morning, I burned a few extra calories picking myself up off the floor and righting my chair, and I made my husband laugh when I told him about my day last night.
I've struggled with depression most of my life, which means I've met a lot of well meaning counselors, but this thing sticks with me- you get to choose how you react. You don't get to choose how other people react, and your initial reaction may be instinctual, but ultimately, you get to choose your mood, your outlook, and the actions you take in response. I choose to be happy. To look on the bright side. To find the learning experience. And to let other people's negativity go.
Our shared secretary chose to vent on me in a really rude, public, and uncalled for way the other day. Rather than respond in kind, I got back to work. I was upset, but had other things to concentrate on, so I did. I set it aside to deal with later. I thought about it that night, played the scenarios in my head. Wouldn't it be fun to tell her that the reason I didn't communicate with her about the work I left on her desk, was that she wasn't there (as usual), and I was busy, didn't notice when she got back from making her gossip rounds to go talk to her about it. And that if she spoke to me that way again, I would put a note in her personnel file. Oh, how satisfying that would be. And un-productive. Instead, when I got to work the next day, I decided she must have just had a rough day the day before, and I let it go, pretended all was well. We're not back to normal, but at the end of the week we are communicating about work things and exchanging pleasantries. And that makes me happy.
My goals for this year:
Find my inner skinny me again. It was easier to be happy when she was visible. She was fit, and didn't hurt so much. She could do things, and enjoy them. This will be work, more dieting (more rice cakes, fewer chocolate dipped macaroons). And more exercise- starting with a walk around the block today. If I take a dog or two, this will be fun too.
Get out of this house, move to the country. Find a place to breathe, have some critters, room for the boys to explore their passions, and good internet for my husband to connect with his gaming community. I like our old house, but it's short on storage space, and the kitchen has four doors, two windows, and NO counter space. And every surface in our kitchen is designed to retain and show dirt- nasty old tile floor, faux brick finish on the walls, dry old wood that hasn't been refinished in forever. My skin crawls just thinking about the crud stuck in that room, which is why my dear sweet husband does most of the cooking. This goal requires fiscal responsibility- continuing our saving habits, continuing to pay off our credit cards and the silly things my husband bought on company credit (how much is the interest rate on that computer??? that we still owe $$$ on two years later??????). It means not buying another roomful of fiber and yarn, even though I really want to. Must have all the pretty colors. Sigh, perhaps I should just use what I have and learn how to make all the pretty colors myself... Yeah, that would be smarter. And fun.
Be happy. To continue to choose the lighter side of life. I married a wonderful man who vowed to make me laugh every day, and he does. I come off as a bit Pollyanna at times, but I can live with that. I don't want to be the bitter, spiteful, crankypants person that my instincts would sometimes have me be. I'm choosing a different path through life, on purpose, every day.
