No leftovers remain
Living with a set of chronic conditions and hosting Friendsgiving
On gratitude and glimmers
Recently, I passed the 1.5-year mark of living with Long Covid and two years with depression. Even with few expectations for a good year, 2023 is now the forerunner in being the most difficult year of my life so far. And yet, after making it through the seven circles of hell this summer, I find myself grateful (again), while simultaneously seeing the complexity of gratitude practices.
Any mindfulness or therapy advice these days recommends, if not full-on burdens us with the need for a gratitude practice. Yes, gratitude is important and is something that is easy to forget, particularly when we are privileged in many ways. I have followed the advice in the past, never having any trouble to come up with up with lists of one, three, five things to be grateful for in any given moment.
Then I slowly came to in a life that requires me to take a shower sitting down. Where it sometimes takes me two or three days to unload the dishwasher and taking out the trash needs planning. I cannot do sports or spontaneously meet friends in the evening. Being grateful suddenly became arduous. If I managed to leave my apartment for a short walk - I used to do long-distance hikes regularly - I would join the elderly in their pace around the park. I always felt nauseaous, dizzy, exhausted, and with a headache.
In some of those moments, the idea of “pockets of joy” came back to me (similar to “glimmer” - see end of this post). Amidst a dizzy spell, I would glimpse the summer sun on a luminous poppy flower. A gentle breeze would graze my cheek and remind me of a trip to Gran Canaria. The smell of a freshly brewed cup of coffee would keep me in the moment for a few seconds. Looking up or down, whichever way my gaze had traveled, I saw people all around me wearing dark colors and looking miserable. And I wondered how it can be that I am in constant pain yet carry pockets of joy with me.
I might not always feel grateful, but I have found acceptance and appreciation to be valid companions. So by the time cooler temperatures finally eased my days and some of my symptoms, I felt motivated to invite a friend or two for dinner at my place. Harvest festivals being right around the corner, the idea evolved into a Friendsgiving dinner for five close friends (and one child). Invitations were extended, dates confirmed, and my mind was delighted.
Organizing and planning are beloved activities of mine, yet brain fog and exhaustion had made them all but impossible and painful up until that point. Now, I pondered dishes and decorations to make, possible seating arrangements in my small studio apartment, and the best starting time so I could have everyone on their way home, ideally by 9 pm, and be in bed by 10 pm.
The date was set for Wednesday, November 22 from 6 pm. One friend and her son arrived earlier because they also had to leave earlier. I prepared my favorite veggie lasagna (vegan, glutenfree - not that I labelled it as such), massaged kale salad with pomegranate, a simple seasonal salad with more greens and my mom’s herb marinade, and a chocolate-fudge sprinkled with various spices, sea salt, and (frozen) berries at hand. No leftovers, except for one piece of chocolatey goodness.
Ahead of Friendsgiving, I was uncertain how I would be handling it, how my friends would get along (none of them had met before), if my cat Luna would be scared or jolly. (She was both. First, scared of a 1.5-year old, then, in high spirits, scratching a friend’s hand.) The atmosphere was lovely, there was no need for more. Everyone was chatting and laughing and I was grateful that I had finally been able to entertain friends (plural!) again. In a little speech, I expressed my appreciation for the friendship and support I have been receiving this year. There may have been some tears.
The next day, I was exhausted. After my friends had left, there was time to tidy up and play with Luna before falling into bed. It took me a few days to recover from hosting, which I expected. But it was manageable. And I will carry the memory of this evening with me into the next moment, and the next, and the difficult moments that are just around the corner.
Words that remain
Glimmers
Glimmer: a micro moment of joy, awe, hope, safety; opposite of trigger
Winter lights
Comfort foods, like Heinz baked beans with potatoes, a fried egg from my mom’s chickens, toasted bread 🍞🍞
Good friends who eat up all the food I prepared, leaving me with no leftovers for the next day… 😅
A question that remains…
What have been some unexpected glimmers in your life lately? Share in the comments. ✨✨✨
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