I’m awake, though my eyes are closed. The morning sun fills my bedroom. My eyelids flicker, and I resist welcoming the day. I lie in bed, my back stiff and sore from too much sleep, and carefully stretch as one false move can throw my back completely out of whack. Getting old is definitely a bitch, but I shouldn’t complain. I am healthy and active and despite the pain, I’ll be playing soccer in a couple of hours. I have to pee, but I linger in the comfort of my pillows and blankets. I want to give in to staying in bed all day, to feeling sad, to nursing heartache and just plain feeling sorry for myself. I will not.
I immediately switch my focus to thoughts of gratitude. Remembering my pledge to meditate at least five minutes every day, I begin conscious breaths, and review my mental list . . . family . . . friends . . . health . . . rewarding job . . . and writing. I struggle to stay positive. I am easily distracted by harmful thoughts and hurtful memories, and my mind strays to a negative place. I stop and start again, training and retraining my thought patterns. After several frustrating attempts a rhythm finally emerges, breathing easier I am lighter. I have successfully outsmarted the black cloud. I feel powerful, but not stronger than a full bladder. Better get up and pee.
I’m ready to begin this day, again.