I could do without the traditional turkey, but over the years I have come to appreciate the festival. My favorite moment is when everyone takes turns listing things they are most grateful for. The first time, at a neighbor’s table, I was embarrassed by this request. The question seemed too personal for such a large group, most of which I didn’t even know. But when I thought about what to say, I felt better. More and more things came into my mind that I hadn’t even suspected a minute ago. Since then, I have kept this habit, and last year I met her, so to speak, an extreme version. I was embroiled in an absurd skirmish with immigration that was getting more and more sinister. And then for the first time I knew fear as a constant state. It was as if a small animal lived in my stomach, biting into me with sharp teeth, eating me from the inside. My thoughts revolved only around “What if…” scenarios.
What if I have to cancel my next book tour as well? What if I had to choose between work, family and Victor? What if …
“Welcome to my reality,” said a longtime anxiety disorder friend who bought a toolbox full of resources. I already knew some of them and put them to good use. But this was new to me: radical gratitude. It wasn’t about focusing on things that, despite everything, were still good. Because they were, of course. No, I should have been grateful for injustice, arbitrariness, threat, fear.
I’m sorry, what?
“Oh, you mean that I should be grateful for the experience, for what I learn?” In fact, as a Swiss woman spoiled by fate, I was pleased to experience, even in a homeopathic dose, what is everyday life for most of humanity. But that was not the point. My girlfriend had to explain this to me three times, and, I confess, for the first few days I felt completely ridiculous, mumbling to myself without convincing myself that I was grateful for the rodent in my stomach, for the heaviness on my chest, for restless sleep, nightmares. But just a few days later, something changed. I felt less vulnerable. I have hope again.
Maybe the only thing that bothered me was the fact that I was talking about it. That I called it by my name instead of getting lost in increasingly threatening catastrophic scenarios. What I learned is that problems that can be solved with mental exercises are still luxury problems, no matter how threatening and painful they may seem at the moment. Or maybe I just needed to come to terms with the fact that life is not a plump bowl of candy, not a series of pearly happy moments that follow each other. Life is also full of pain, loss, tears. Full of luck, candy and pearls. life is full thank you life