At least at this moment, remember this: you are happy. You are feeling content. Your home is warm and you can afford to pay to keep it that way. You have a new (to you) van and it runs well and doesn’t threaten to stall around every corner. You are healthy. Your son is healthy, his white blood cells have rallied in battle, fighting off the cold virus that swam through his veins. He will get better. He has no cavities. You had the money to pay for the visit to the dentist.
Your husband is handsome, and he is kind. He loves you. You love him. The two of you can still laugh with one another, talk over serious matters that concern the world and its humans, and still make love with a quiet sort of passion. His body is familiar to you. He fits inside of you nicely, still. When you lay side by side, the corners and crevices of your bodies fill up like puzzle pieces. He is home to you.
You have a family who loves you, and whom you love right back. Warmth is a constant, it’s only the naughty chemicals in your brain who lie to you and say that all is not well.
Well. You are learning to be well. In the new year you will embark in the study of your human spirit. You will sweep out the cobwebs and polish your thoughts clean and healthy again. No rats nests of worry; no dust bunnies of doubt.
Soon your old brain will be a rusted relic, a green-stained bronze lump of unrecognizable origin. You might remember how it used to work before it was well, but you won’t look back in nostalgia at the frantic way it used to fly through your skull. It made you dizzy, it made you hurt.
We are God’s masterpiece. None of us were made to be sad, or lonely, or angry, or cruel. We do that to each other, and we do it to ourselves.