Grateful

Today after work I went to the grocery store. I bought craving foods because I am PMSing. I was packing into a sack, thinking about how little nutritional value was in the things I'd chosen (hummus, falafel, pumkin soup, crackers and cheese) and how I should have bought some fruits or vegetables. I could have.

Halfway through this thought the man behind me was ringing up his item. Singular. A bag of rice.

"One euro fifty centimes, please," the cashier said.

He dug through his pockets for the change, counting it out to see if he had enough. I paused, pretending to pet a dog near the grocery carts to make sure he could pay. He did.

I don't know his situation, it's true. He could have been sent down by his wife to get something they were missing from the pantry, but something about the way he carried himself told me that was not the case. It was more likely that he came from the public housing that is situated across the street from me. It is more likely that he is very, very poor. That rice was probably his dinner.*

And I was immediately, immensely thankful for everything I have. Though I may be surround day after day by excessive displays of wealth (which makes me feel frumpy and outclassed) I am in no way shape or form poor. I have enough money to buy food just because I am craving it. I do not have to eat plain white rice for dinner tonight.

Two weeks ago I hit a breaking point. I could feel myself completely unravelling and beginning the process of self sabotage. I knew something was wrong.

I called my therapist immediately who told me to call my doctor immediately which I did. Once I was there I didn't need to say much for him to realize I am depressed. Unlike my previous French doctor, my new one speaks fluent, impecible English and I could articulate exactly what was going on. It was quick - like the pull of an old band-aid.

"It's clear you should be on something."

"I am on something, it's just not working."

"Obviously. Well, let's try something different shall we, and hope this works."

He's not terribly touchy feely, but he got the job done. In less than thirty minutes I had a prescription for a bottle of new hope.

After about four days on it I can already feel the difference. And here again, I count myself terribly blessed. I have been fortunate enough in my life to have people around me - at various points - who have encouraged me to get the help I need. I have dear friends who are soul seekers and growers who aren't afraid of self improvement and they've shared that positivity with me. I have had more than one wonderful, sage therapist who has not only let me cry and talk but have urged me to change my negative patterns and learn to be aware of the signs that mean I need to be more careful with myself. They have helped me begin to untangle the web of my broken self-esteem - taught me to never give up.

I have a family who has always been there for me, no matter what mess I make for myself. They respect my messed up process even if they don't understand it or if it worries them sick. They have let me stumble and fall and pick myself back up again which is all that has ever really taught me anything about life. They love me unconditionally.

I know sometime again in the not so far future I will forget how good I have it. But, hopefully it will be like today, and I will get an encouraging email from a reader or I will open my eyes to the life of a stranger and I will remember to be grateful for all that God has given me and continues to give. I will stop and count my blessings.

And if it sounds a bit like a prayer, it's because it is. Amen.

*There is always the possibility that rice man was a poor drunk, but it still stopped and made me think, so for that I am grateful!