I Can See My Feet

Perspective.

One of those words people toss around to make others feel poorly when they want to cocoon themselves in a blanket of self-pity and moan about how cruel life is. There are a hundred examples to give someone to drive home the fact they shouldn't be complaining, because it could be worse. How many times have we all heard that?

It could be worse.

And that's the truth. The fact is, my day-to-day life isn't bad. So, I try to stay positive.

I have both my parents. Shoulders to cry on. A job. My body isn't overgrown with hair. People love me. Some of them, at least. I have Oliver. And Dixon. There are mountains and forests all around me.

And I can see my feet when I look down.

I have it pretty good.

I may be stuck under a mountain of debt, feeling as though I'm being suffocated by my inability to pay bills. There are feelings of inadequacy, worrying about letting my friends and family down, and wondering if I've made the right decisions in life.

Still, my day-to-day life isn't bad.

Sometimes it's hard remembering this.

Then a customer comes in and comments on how her daughter is going through chemo.

"How old is your daughter?" I asked.

And her reply?

Four.

Perspective.

It's a son of a bitch.