I didn’t actually want to write a post today, seeing as how I’d probably get all roadrage-y or sledgehammer-y or something akin to a prime spot on the evening news.
Thus, I believe it was even more important to illustrate the use of #gladitude and why I believe The #gladitude project is so important.
It’s finding a stolen moment to self-care without anxiety. So, not just the “out of the house with other people” part…but it’s having noticed that the chest-crushing pressure isn’t there. Not even the need to scope out the closest ladies’ room. Nor the urge to vomit that has nothing to do with mutant fucking nuclear green spiders. NADA. It meant that my #gladitude was noticing that people, women, specifically, are opening doors to trusting friendships, just by the nature of their awesomeness.
It’s colour. For the eleventy-billionth time. Well, not for me, in fact…but for a dear friend recovering from surgery so that she could wake up to colour in the morning, and be the last bit of colour at the end of her day.
They come in a freakin’ FAMILY?!?
I’d love the lil’ clip one.
Too bad they don’t carry earrings. 😉
It’s how, after I drag my aching carcass into the bathroom for my morning shower, the furnace has recently turned on making it comfy and warm and all that.
#gladitude. It’s finding a wickedly scrumptious coffee creamer that my lactose-intolerant husband can enjoy. And…ON SALE. \m/
It’s celebrating my twin boys’ 7th birthday. The twins that stunned my world. The youngest of my five. The “bonus baby” I held tonight in my arms as I had a breakdown.
He asked me why I was crying.
“Because I don’t really feel very well.”
I knew what was coming next…because it always comes next:
“Are you going to die?”
My #gladitude is understanding that leaving a public record of my life will give him strength at my end of days.
You are your actions and deeds, your name is your honour.