The Thanksgiving Deal: a Disjointed Post about Doing What I Love

It’s Thanksgiving Day and I woke up this morning and gave God a little shout out thanking him for all of my blessings. I try to do that most mornings—wake up with gratitude. But, it is much easier to practice thanksgiving when you wake up on your own time clock, when it’s quiet, when it’s a holiday, when you are sporting your most comfortable ugly pajamas, and when you have a 42 oz. bag of peanut M&Ms downstairs. Okay, the M&Ms aren’t really that critical to the thanks.

I started a post last night at 9:30PM and wrote until about 2:15AM with little pause. The first three paragraphs flowed out in about half an hour. The rest of the time, I typed then deleted, copied then pasted, then unpasted, then cut, then retyped words I had deleted, then stared, then drummed my fingers loudly and forcefully on the lap of my laptop. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant process, but I cannot complain. No. I am extremely grateful to be in a space and a position in which writer’s block and obsessive self-editing is an actual frustration. I am so terribly privileged.

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The Richness of Solitude

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self. ~ May Sarton

It is just past midnight and I am sitting alone in the silence of my apartment sipping decaf chai and listening to the clock tick. I am wholly content.

It wasn’t long ago that a moment like this, let alone an hour, never mind an evening, would find me desperate and restless. The pit of my belly would swell with this intense sense of longing and I would feel a dull anxiety creeping through my body. I had no idea what to do with these feelings and it wasn’t uncommon for me to spend long periods of time sitting on the couch, phone in lap, staring at the wall and hoping someone would contact me.

This may sound pathetic and I do not care. It was just my way of pushing through another swell of loneliness, or more accurately, of stark emptiness.

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