Forcing Functions for Gratitude
With all the hubbub about COVID-19, I almost missed the first day of spring (Thursday, March 19th). But I didn’t! Before I left on a mission to retrieve the essentials from my office, I took a moment to look around me. Honestly, I don’t think I would have stopped if people weren’t practicing social distancing. The realization that my home would be my primary companion for the immediate future gave me pause.
Then I noticed the trees are starting to put on their clothes. Dressed in those vivid greens that only come with new leaves as winter fades away. The azaleas are blooming and last years recruits are starting to peek through the soil in my flower bed. An ominous reminder that I better get on the good foot if I want to ditch the foliage choices of the previous occupants. Pretty soon the birds caught my eye. It seems the yellow finches are real estate shopping on my front porch. The jury is still out on if I’ll be their landlady, though. And just like that, I was thankful for life being exactly the way it is — pandemic and all.
This time last year I was living in Chicago, overwhelmed by incessant sirens and a desire to become so small that people on the El couldn’t brush up against me as they got on and off the train. As my Dad so eloquently put it, “Baby, you ain’t built for the concrete jungle.” And to be honest, I suspected that before I moved to Chi-town. But after hearing Lisa Nichols’ advice on how to stop negative self-talk, I felt the need to test my theory.
When I realized I believed, “I could never live in a big city.” I started thinking, “What if that’s not actually true? [Cue the Byron Katie] What am I missing because I refuse to entertain living in a large city much less moving to one?” As I challenged my internal dialogue, I saw the benefits of being in a densely populated area. In turn, I decided to widen my job search to include major metropolitan areas.
Six months after relocating to Chicago, I had become a light sleeper who struggled with insomnia. And I stayed there anyway — for three years. I gained 30 pounds, had two major surgeries, and was well on my way to becoming a germaphobe. All of which was compounded by a lack of access to nature. A point I feel silly even mentioning it because there are so many of beautiful spaces in Chicago — starting with Lake Michigan. The challenge for me, though, was the temperature. Even though nature was all around me, I could only stand to be in it for about four months out of the year.
Needless to say, as I began my third spring in Chicagoland, I was extremely proud for lasting so long. Luckily, my sense of smug satisfaction didn’t keep me from moving to a small southern town of 10,000 people. When I arrived, my entire soul exhaled. Now I spend my days moving at the speed of nature.
My “big city dilemmas” turned out to be my greatest gift. It forced me to tell the whole truth — and not just about the weather. I started looking closely at my desires and asking questions like:
- Do I really want it? Does it align with my values and who I am today?
- What challenges might I face while trying to obtain it? Is my current environment an advantage or an obstacle?
- How much will it cost? Will my efforts leave me in a deficit — financially, energetically, emotionally, etc.?
By living in a place I was certain wouldn’t work for me, I ended up learning what actually does. The funny thing is I still catch myself saying, “I could never live in a big city.” Then I smile and speak my truth, “I can live in a big city — because I did… And it wasn’t my jam.”
I never expected social distancing to offer such short commute to my inner space. But I’m grateful it took me there. It reminded me that anything can be a forcing function for gratitude.
