Counting our blessings.
It’s something we’re quite good at.
Perhaps it’s because we’re naturally introspective. Or perhaps it’s because we’re obsessed with keeping score.
Either way, we don’t pass up an opportunity to enumerate all that we’ve been given. Instead, we stockpile our gratitude, as if it’s a pile of gold coins in our dragon lair.
This pattern gains gravitas as the leaves fall from the trees and the winter chill sets in. It becomes unavoidable as a holiday designated for this purpose beckons.
So, we dive deep into gratefulness. We obsess over what we’ve been blessed with over the past year. And we go into overdrive to show our appreciation.
In most times, this is a harmless exercise. A healthy one, even.
But in extraordinary times, that foundation can shift.
It’s OK to not be OK.
This refrain has gained popularity in recent years, as our society has taken a fresh look at mental health.
Generally, this message is intended for those who’ve suffered psychological trauma. It’s for anyone who might be reckoning with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder — or PTSD.
Perhaps these PTSD victims witnessed a horrifying event, such as a car crash or the 9/11 attacks. Or perhaps they had been deployed to a combat zone and ended up bringing those horrors home. Either way, their realities were likely filled with dark thoughts.
The idea behind It’s OK to not be OK is that fitting in needn’t be a primary objective. Mainstream society might have its norms and expectations. But most people who make up that society don’t have the harrowing perspective that PTSD victims do. By forcing those victims to bury their emotions and conform with society, we are placing an undue burden upon them.
I’ve long recognized the importance of this idea. And yet, I can’t fully square with it.
For I haven’t experienced enough trauma firsthand for it to apply to me. And while I’ve faced many challenges throughout my life, I’ve been reluctant to apply such a mantra to them.
These bumps in the road have been setbacks, not traumas. And I’ve long maintained that the best way to respond to a setback is to plow ahead with conviction.
So, I’ve buried my discontent at the challenges I’ve faced. I’ve shaken off my disappointments. I’ve moved on.
Many others in this position have done the same. After all, America is the land of hard knocks. It is the heartland of perseverance through challenges.
This spirit goes back to the nation’s earliest years — when settlers faced lethal dangers on their journey west. It gained steam as immigrants flowed into Ellis Island, arriving destitute and devoid of protection. And it continues today, as the entrepreneurial movement reaches a fever pitch.
Picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves off has been the American way for eons.
And yet, it might be time to rethink all of that.
As I write these words, America is enduring a moment without comparison.
In less than 10 months, the nation has confronted a pandemic, a recession, a racial justice reckoning, a contentious Presidential election, and a swath of natural disasters. All of these events have hit this nation in years past. But they’ve never struck simultaneously.
In the wake of all this turmoil, a new narrative has taken hold. One that splits our society between the fortunate and the snakebit.
The idea comes from the fact that many have lost something in all of this. Loved ones, jobs, homes, dignity, sense of identity — all of these have been ripped away in an instant.
And yet, these horrors haven’t been evenly distributed. For some, the biggest departure from “normal life” has been the requirement that they wear face masks when outside their homes.
This group has kept their incomes, their health, and their joie de vivre. If not for a few visuals — such as those masks — it might seem as if nothing had changed from the days before the virus reached our shores.
Under normal Rules of Engagement for Americana, the next steps should be clear. Those ravaged by the moment should dust themselves off and get back on the horse. Those unaffected by it should proceed with business as usual.
But these are not normal times. The prospect of a socially distanced holiday season should make that painfully clear.
It’s time we recognize the cloud hanging over us all. And it’s time we throw out the old playbook.
In the eye of the storm, gratitude can seem irrelevant.
As we batten down the hatches, we’ve got little time to savor the ride. Survival is paramount.
But we’ve been riding the storm for months now. And as the season of reflection and renewal fast approaches, it’s time to face the truths we’ve long been avoiding.
First, this ordeal is affecting all of us, whether we want to admit it or not. Yes, the harm is not evenly distributed — and for some, the shadow of this moment will linger eternally. But no one is free and clear from the blast. We all have the right to remove the cloak of invincibility and be human.
Second, we have much to appreciate. The world might look drastically different, but the hallmarks of community and grace remain. Even in the darkest and most uncertain of times, we find the strength and ingenuity to pull each other through. That should not be taken for granted.
And third, gratefulness is not a competitive sport. We shouldn’t feel pressure to wear on our sleeves the blessings we feel in our hearts. Life is messy and emotions are complicated. It’s best if we leave some runway for each of us to deal with such complexity in the manner that best suits us. Judgment gets us nowhere.
If we can come to terms with these truths, we might encounter some levity. We might rekindle the spirit that generally dominates the tail-end of the calendar. We just might find ourselves again.
Times may be tough, and joy might be in short supply. But all is not lost.
Let us never forget that.