Have I gushed about how lucky I am lately? Probably. Adequately? Who knows.

I am so lucky. Seriously, seriously. I don’t know if I could even explain why. The things that feel so delicious, when I try to put them into words, sound so superficial. Like, “oh, Christmas is coming. YUM.” And, “I must live in the most beautiful, eclectic, fun neighbourhood ever.” And, “my babies are the most beautiful, interesting, fun children ever.” And, “everywhere I turn I am surrounded by really good, caring people.”

It’s not that things never feel bad. You could have asked me Friday night, and I would have told you about my fight with Ethan and probably would have got all choked up. And sometimes when things are that bad, I don’t have confidence that all the better stuff is coming back soon. But, overall, I feel like I spend most days gazing around me with mouth agape going, “So awesome. So beautiful. How did I get here?”

The only thing, really, is that I could use about a million more free times. Yikes, I’m on a fast-track for some kinda burnout just now.

But I’m confident that I’ll find the right moment to hop off that track or find my time-out or change my course.

Over the last decade, I have done a lot of course-plotting, a lot of self-examination and decision-making and mind-changing. And I haven’t regretted any of that mind-changing. I think that experience in changing my life, at whatever scale, is the source of most of my current contentment. Because it allows me to, when things are on a down-swing, to see that down as a minor blip on a giant chart whose overall trend I believe I can impact.

If I could change one thing about the world, I would make everyone journal regularly. The act of writing forces you to ask the question, “is my life livable if I have to examine it? Or only if I can do it on automatic.” I also find that depression, in general, springs from dishonesty with yourself more than sadness. Being fully sad is so different from depression, because you are kind to yourself about the sadness and you have the power to take yourself through the grief and then work with it.