Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about “journaling.”
I put it in quotes because I doubly dislike the use of it as a verb.
Even in my teens I was hopeless at keeping a diary, breaking open the one I had only to occasionally profess my love, or hate, for a particular boy.
Probably my most successful attempt was the clothing log I kept in high school, where I would write down what I wore every day in order to avoid repeating anything for at least a month between wearings.
Even that I gave up mid-junior year, when I guess I decided it was OK to put on those Guess jeans more than once every 30 days.
So when my therapist asked me to start keeping a journal as part of my self-work, I agreed, knowing full well I’d hate it.
And I do — no point in lying. Writing about my feelings is nearly as torturous as talking about them.
But one thing about it I do appreciate are the gratitude lists she has me make every day, as well as running observations of the simple things I enjoy.
As is the case for everyone, this year has been no joke, and keeping tabs on the good stuff is an extremely effective mental exercise to help avoid the atrophy of depression.
The key is to keep it specific, tangible. Not “grateful to be alive,” or “I love world peace.” But the little things — the ones that actually keep you going from moment to moment.
For instance, I love when I walk past a house and I can smell someone’s doing laundry inside. I don’t know why, but I find it immensely comforting.
I love my first cup of coffee in the morning.
I love when my dog Moo is asleep and his little white eyelashes twitch as he dreams.
I love anytime I buy something and don’t have to hem it.
I love the way jewelry sparkles in the sunlight.
Actually, just sunlight in general makes it on my Gratitude List a lot — well, whenever there is any.
Today, it is decidedly absent, but there are other things to be thankful for.
A new documentary on the college admissions scandal on Netflix.
A perfectly ripe avocado to make some guacamole to go with my dinner.
A shooting date for season 4 of “Killing Eve.”
Finding one last bag of my favorite tea hiding in the box, when I thought I was out (Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice, y’all, don’t sleep on it).
The Molly Goddard dress I ordered being Out for Delivery.
A freshly picked-up pair of glasses so I can read the backs of boxes again.
And those small print menus, too, whenever — hopefully soon — I can dine out once more in the world.
The vaccine.
The vaccine.
The vaccine.
And every single person who gets it.
Today, tomorrow, and until we end this thing.
Take care everyone. Please be safe. We are so close. Thank you.
Katie McDowell is the enterprise editor and lifestyles columnist for The Dominion Post. Email her your plans for when life returns at kmcdowell@dominionpost.com.
