Diiiiiisssssconnnnnntennnnnnntttttt
You know that old commercial where a mans deep voice slowly says "Diaareeeeaaaahhhh" as an overlay to some horrific scenario? No? Nobody ever remembers that commercial. It was my families favorite thing to say, for a very long time, because we are weird. And hilarious.
Anyways, I keep saying "Discontent" in that exact voice lately. It pops up at the most inconvenient times, this terrible discontent. It makes you run for relief. It embarrasses you in public spaces. It is, I think, my genetic herald. My coat of arms would be a face with furrowed brows and bit lip, looking longingly off into the distance at some vague but undoubtedly better than place.
Stupid discontent.
So, I try to force myself to stop and think about things I am grateful for in the moment every time I start getting that anxious roiling in the gut that heralds Diiiiisssssscooonnnnnteeeeennntttt.
I wake up every morning, mostly healthy. Sometimes sore, but only because I either kicked ass the day before or ate things that tasted great but which made my body extremely unhappy. Mostly healthy.
I wake up every morning mostly happy. Sometimes anxious, but only ever over first world problems that would make most people throughout most of history ecstatic to have to deal with.
I wake up every morning and I drink my cup(s) of coffee. Generally in a beautiful, warm, comfortable space. Wherever I am in the world, I drink my cups of coffee looking at something that feeds my soul. And I am looking at these things because I have an unprecedented amount of control over my world, I get to choose what I want to look at.
I have a job that pays me well, and which respects me. I have a brain that makes connections easily, that flows like greased lightening when I treat it right. I have a level of intelligence that lets me connect to a number of fascinating and absolutely beautiful facets of reality. I have a hunger for new thoughts, new connections, that forces me to enjoy reading and to enjoy observing. That's a freaking privilege, right there, the ability to observe the world without being dragged down into the kind of conflict that forces you to pull into yourself to survive. I am privileged in my safety and my freedom.
I have a body that mostly does what I want and need it to do.
I have a deeply defined sensuality that informs much of my enjoyment of life, and which I am privileged to exercise freely.
I have access to limitless music, and the ability to appreciate every facet of it.
I have access to every facet of culture that I choose to expose myself to, both my own culture and that of others.
I have access to countless varieties of food, healthy and not so healthy, for me to do with as I will. Cook for myself or ask others to cook for me, enjoy with abandon, and sit back with a full belly to enjoy the contentment of having combined multiple types of nourishment.
I am surrounded by fascinating people, and I have the tools to dig into their realities to try and understand them and learn from them. That right there is freaking amazing. This plethora of resources exists inside every single human being around you, and is just waiting to be mined.
I am loved, and love.
I am wanted, and want.
While it is hard for me to believe both of the above statements sometimes, as it is hard for everyone to believe sometimes, I still know them to be true on a deep, subconscious level that allows for an unshakable foundation of faith in self.
I am grateful to be me, for the most part. My discontent can be an alien virus, sucking my natural joy while providing some much needed impetus to continue growing and moving. So I guess I'm grateful for my discontent, much as it bugs me to think that.
Anyways, I keep saying "Discontent" in that exact voice lately. It pops up at the most inconvenient times, this terrible discontent. It makes you run for relief. It embarrasses you in public spaces. It is, I think, my genetic herald. My coat of arms would be a face with furrowed brows and bit lip, looking longingly off into the distance at some vague but undoubtedly better than place.
Stupid discontent.
So, I try to force myself to stop and think about things I am grateful for in the moment every time I start getting that anxious roiling in the gut that heralds Diiiiisssssscooonnnnnteeeeennntttt.
I wake up every morning, mostly healthy. Sometimes sore, but only because I either kicked ass the day before or ate things that tasted great but which made my body extremely unhappy. Mostly healthy.
I wake up every morning mostly happy. Sometimes anxious, but only ever over first world problems that would make most people throughout most of history ecstatic to have to deal with.
I wake up every morning and I drink my cup(s) of coffee. Generally in a beautiful, warm, comfortable space. Wherever I am in the world, I drink my cups of coffee looking at something that feeds my soul. And I am looking at these things because I have an unprecedented amount of control over my world, I get to choose what I want to look at.
I have a job that pays me well, and which respects me. I have a brain that makes connections easily, that flows like greased lightening when I treat it right. I have a level of intelligence that lets me connect to a number of fascinating and absolutely beautiful facets of reality. I have a hunger for new thoughts, new connections, that forces me to enjoy reading and to enjoy observing. That's a freaking privilege, right there, the ability to observe the world without being dragged down into the kind of conflict that forces you to pull into yourself to survive. I am privileged in my safety and my freedom.
I have a body that mostly does what I want and need it to do.
I have a deeply defined sensuality that informs much of my enjoyment of life, and which I am privileged to exercise freely.
I have access to limitless music, and the ability to appreciate every facet of it.
I have access to every facet of culture that I choose to expose myself to, both my own culture and that of others.
I have access to countless varieties of food, healthy and not so healthy, for me to do with as I will. Cook for myself or ask others to cook for me, enjoy with abandon, and sit back with a full belly to enjoy the contentment of having combined multiple types of nourishment.
I am surrounded by fascinating people, and I have the tools to dig into their realities to try and understand them and learn from them. That right there is freaking amazing. This plethora of resources exists inside every single human being around you, and is just waiting to be mined.
I am loved, and love.
I am wanted, and want.
While it is hard for me to believe both of the above statements sometimes, as it is hard for everyone to believe sometimes, I still know them to be true on a deep, subconscious level that allows for an unshakable foundation of faith in self.
I am grateful to be me, for the most part. My discontent can be an alien virus, sucking my natural joy while providing some much needed impetus to continue growing and moving. So I guess I'm grateful for my discontent, much as it bugs me to think that.
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