Photo CC Rachel-morgan.com

Someone once told me a story about a man who was feeling beaten down by life.  The man wrote down a list of all of the things he couldn’t stand about his circumstances and put the list away in a drawer.  Later on in the week, the man was in a different state of mind. Feeling chipper, he wrote a gratitude list, thanking God for all of the things in his life he considered blessings. As he opened his drawer to put his gratitude list away, he came across the list he’d made only a few days prior. Unable to remember what it was that was bothering him so much, he held the lists next to one another and was shocked at what he saw – the lists were exactly the same.

I’m of the school of thought that if we view everything in life – every event, every person who comes and goes – as a teacher, life is far more magical.  But sometimes, like tonight, I feel like a child, and I just don’t want to.

Today was tough. One could say there were “teachers” all around me, but I’m finding I don’t care too much for looking at them that way at the moment. I feel like a kid. I would rather scream and kick. Sayings like “everything happens for a reason” make me want to squirm when I’m standing in the middle of pain and confusion.  Then at other times, those sayings feel like the divine truth. This, my friends, is not one of those times.

So tonight, I am six years old, and letting myself act my age. Six. I am stomping my feet.  I am jumping up and down and screaming until it feels like I’m done. And this little entry is a toast, if you will, to everyone (myself included) who is standing in the middle of disgruntled feelings and utter confusion.  You are not alone. I am here with you, aimlessly facebooking away and glued to Hulu when I am probably a gratitude list away from getting myself out of the quicksand and onto dry land. I know the empty piece of paper and pen will be there for me when I’m ready to let go, take off my training wheels and put on my big girl pants again.  And, I guess the beautiful thing is that empty piece of paper isn’t going anywhere.  Freedom is always waiting for me, only a notepad away in most cases. I’ll just get to it after I finish my dark chocolate bar and this one last episode of the Colbert Report, if you don’t mind.

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