Heart matters

Your life sucks! Nooot…

Your life sucks! Nooot...

It’s been a tough, crazy, past few weeks and I’m just over here, trying to make my brain work, like “Hello? Is this thing on?” I’m dealing with a bunch of reoccuring “Your life sucks!” kind of thoughts. But the funny thing about life is that when you think you have a lot to complain about, you are probably, most likely, overreacting. Okay, it’s not that funny. But it’s a pretty sobering thought. Your worst day is not that bad compared to the fact that, oh look, you’re actually ALIVE.

Whenever I am feeling especially crappy I remember that the young girls kidnapped by Boko Haram, 2 years ago, have still not been rescued. I think about the parents of those 219 students and am immediately so thankful that I know where my kids are. I know that my kids are alive and well and living without fear.

I also remember that there are about 795 million people in the world, who do not have enough food to lead a healthy, active life. That’s 1 in 9 people on earth who are in a constant state of hunger. When I’m hungry, I buy a pie, and then regret eating the pie, because carbs. What do I have to complain about?!

On the days where I feel like I’m to fat or to old or to tired, I think about young lives that have ended way to early because of sickness and brilliant minds unable to fulfill their purpose because they are bedridden due to illness. Like, for real, my sinus and lack of Kardashian hair is not the worst thing in the world right now.

When I’m having a really bad day at work, I try to remember all the resume’s and CV’s that friends and family members have asked me to type up for them. Some are still without employment. I’ve never ever had to deal with being without income, in all of my working life. This job is a blessing.

And when I carefully plot ways to get back at my hubstopher after he purposefully used the last milk and did not consider my frequent need for tea, I remind myself that the guy could be doing a lot worse than drinking the last milk. He’s still around. He still loves me (and all my crazy). And he still adores and looks after his kids. I could’ve chosen a psychopath but all the guy does is throw his dirty socks on the floor instead of in the laundry basket. I can work around that.

So, let’s pull ourselves towards ourselves, build a bridge and get over ourselves, shall we. Your life isn’t as bad as you think it is.



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