The worst part is, sometimes I lose the arguments.

I believe you can choose, to a certain extent, how you perceive everything around you.  What you choose to see, to acknowledge, in each moment will have a significant impact on the quality of your life.

You can focus on the positive or the negative.

I spend a lot of time focusing on negative things.

A LOT.

This is not a recent thing. This is a life-long tendency. I have wasted so much time doing this thing, this sad, silly thing.

You know how they (you know, “they” – and I’m not referring to the Underwear Gnomes, like I usually am when I whisper “they” with emphasis) publish statistics on how much of your life you spend eating, or sleeping, picking your nose, and such? I shudder to think what are the horribly consuming number of hours… days, weeks…  even YEARS of my life that I have wasted focusing on the negative.  The Poopoo Stink.  The Crud Suckery.

What she thinks of me. How they reacted to what I did. What I looked like in those pants. What he must have thought of the things I said. How I could have done that differently. How much better I wish I was.  What if I hadn’t done that.  What if I had done that.  What if I could just do everything better. Like other people do.  The way I wish it were.  The way things aren’t.  The way they could have been, if only….

Or the countless hours I’ve wasted in my shower/in bed at night/in my car/etc having fake arguments inside my head with people. Just in case. So I could practice what to say IF the situation arose.

Can you believe that?

I IMAGINE AND ELABORATE ON CONFLICT THAT DOESN’T EXIST YET.

I know other people do it, too, but that doesn’t make it any better. (Well, ok, a little bit better. Heh.)

Inspired with the idea of having Grace in Small Things (aka Waging a Battle Against Embitterment. Hell.Yes.), and by my own need to lift myself up (drag myself out of the emotional stinkhole) this year, I’m going to try something.

I’ve tried really hard, at times in the past, to focus less on negative things… especially that fake arguments thing. For the love of banana pudding (and mmmm, do I love me some banana pudding), that really has to happen less.

So I need to stop myself from doing that.  Redirect.  That will be a start.  It will help.

But what’s going to help more, is to consciously start focusing on positive things.

And my first step is going to be… instead of having fake arguments with other people?

I’m going to start making an effort to tell people I come into contact with, on a regular basis, that I value them. I’m going to tell them what I like about them. I’m going to thank them for being there.

Anyone that moves me.  The bagger at the grocery store.  My best friend.  The person I follow on Twitter. My husband (a revolutionary idea, that one).  Maybe you.

I’m going to tell these people the positive things about them that occur to me.  Or how they’ve added to my life in a good way.

I’m going to encourage them.

At least one person, every day.

It’s going to help me start feeling more positive.

And maybe, just maybe, it will give another In-the-Shower-Fake-Argument-Having-Person something more positive to focus on that day, too.

You know, something other than those damned Underwear Gnomes.

Yes, I am a dumbass. Now let’s pretend this isn’t over a month old.

Here’s a story I never shared with you… b/c I forgot to post it.  Wow, can anyone say, “dumbass?”  Well, would you still like to read it?  Hope so!

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In the spirit of reveling in the good, the night I was writing this post, I decided to take Braden to the park the next day, watch him run around, and just generally enjoy being outside.

Does it sometimes seem like just when you’re trying to turn the corner on depression, the shit rains down on you?

Braden had a horrible night sleeping that night. I was just saying to John last Tuesday night that Braden has been sleeping so well for some time now, and even though his sleep habits used to be awful with crying and carrying on all night, now he does wonderfully!

News flash: JUST DON’T EVER SAY THINGS LIKE THAT OUT LOUD!

The very next night (the night I decided to be all happy and travel to the park the next day) he took hours to go to sleep. I had to hold him 3 times and spend over an hour in his room after his original bedtime, to help him go down. Then he got up at 2:30 and decided it must be morning.

WHAT THE HELL? He never does that!

Oh, hai, did I mention that I had not gone to bed yet at that point (yes I’m an idiot)?

I tried taking him to my bed when he wouldn’t go back to sleep in his. For an hour and a half we played the, “Sleep For 10 Minutes, Then Play for 15 Minutes” game over and over again. As cute as it was, by 4am, NO ONE IS CUTE TO ME IF I’M STILL AWAKE AGAINST MY WILL. So I took him back to his crib.

Luckily, he only screamed for a little while.

The next morning, I was shitasstired.

I reminded myself to be grateful and to go enjoy the day anyway. So we did breakfast, and I packed up things we would need at the park. My face only dragged on the floor 93% of the time while I was rounding things up.

Coffee is good, but it does not work miracles. Drugs are bad, but I would have snorted cocaine that day.

It seemed like everything was going very well. Braden was fed and dressed, I was fed and dressed. The bag was packed. Suddenly, I realized it was hot out and I needed to pack water for the boy.

I put the diaper bag in the car, and came back to get water. Braden rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw the door to the garage open. I closed it. HE DIED A SLOW AND HORRIBLE DEATH.

It was LOUD.

Time-Out was had.

During time out it was LOUD. I stood in the kitchen and tried to remember not to curse hatefully.

I also tried to remember not to wish I was dead.  Or deaf.  One letter, either way, it would be quiet.

Once that episode was over, I took the water and the child and we got all situated, snapped, and buckled into the car. While I was buckling Braden into his seat, he pointed to the dome light and gleefully exclaimed, “Iiiiiiigggghhhhttt!!!” Aww. How cute!

I hopped into the front seat and strapped myself in, slamming the door shut.

Key in ignition. Turn.

Nothing.

Blank stare.

Key turn.

Nothing.

Extreme restraint of desire to say pissfuckshitdamnhellmotherfuckercuntlickercocksuckerWHORE!

(And, while I have potty mouth, it’s really not usually that bad.)

From the back seat, “Iiiiiiiiiiggggggtttt!!!” (gleefully)

I looked at the dome light. All the doors were closed. It was still on, dimly. Guess who had GLEEFULLY exclaimed about the light the other day when we were getting OUT of the car, slapping at it and messing with it? Oh, hai, that would be my child, who must have switched it to the CONSTANT ON POSITION right before we got out of the car, unbeknown to me.

Hahaha. I can has dead battery? YUP.

So, jumping way ahead (past me whining on the phone to John) and the AAA guy shows up. He was there in no time, he was polite, he juiced my battery in no time. (John, don’t read the next part.) It did not damage my day that he was a really super-hot hispanic guy with a dazzling smile.

(I might kill the car battery on purpose next time? KIDDING! KIDDING!)

The rest of the day was lovely. The park outing was beautiful… even though I forgot everything but the water the second time we loaded up. It didn’t matter. We didn’t need any of it.

We ran and played in the grass. The sun shone down on us.

The world did not end. It went on, and it was even fabulous.

Even though I’ve felt the need to vomit out all that crap up there on you? (Thanks for letting me do that!) I’m choosing to focus on the good stuff, this time.

More baby steps.