non-fiction, Writing


I write a gratitude journal because I must. Not because it is fashionable or people post articles about it or blah blah. I have chronic pain and the pain clinic psychologist told me to. So there you go.

And for someone who has had chronic pain for more than half her life it is hard to actually do this. Pain sucks the life out a person. And not thankful for this. At all.

So there is that. No thankful part of my life I think about a lot. How much it sucks. How much it has taken from me. And takes and takes. How my past is consumed and, hey, that future too.

So I have writers block on the weirdest damn thing. What am I grateful for today?

And it cannot be cheaping out on this simple things like ‘I am grateful for a roof over my head’ because while true, it is true every single day. Nothing about Today in there. I could equally say I am grateful for all my precious, precious books every single day. Done!

Has to something specific to that day.


I am grateful the pain didn’t reach an epic 10 today. Which is true. I am always grateful for that, unless it Did. And then I am not thinking anything because I am a mindless ball of pain.

I am grateful my spouse brought me home a latte. That is legit. I can use that. It expresses his caring for me. And I love coffee.

I am thankful I finished a poem today and submitted it to a journal. I thought why not submit it. I am not a poet per sa but I love to write it sometimes. So I am thankful I had the nerve and felt I was good enough to.

I am always grateful for writing and inspiration and creativity. The fuel of my passion.

Still, I have to tell you guys on a bad pain day when I accomplished exactly nill and zilch I have a heck of a time thinking what it is about that day that did not suck balls. Other than I am grateful couch; it understands me.


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