Wonder

When I stepped foot on the continent of Antarctica, ice and snow covered the rocky surface in every direction. Weddell and crabeater seals dozed along the shore, frequently lifting a face or tail as they seemed to stretch in contentment. At one point, while standing on the island of South Georgia, a quarter-of-a-million king penguins serenaded us, their high-pitch braying and squawking undulating in wave-like crescendos of amorous glee.

Photos of those moments display a grin that, even without the penguins, would translate easily into sheer awe. The only other image I have of myself with an equally beatific smile is from the day I met Michael.

I am happy.

I am happy, and, for the first time, I am comfortable being happy.

I grew up in an abusive home, and I was also adopted: I can see now how these two facts shaped how I interpreted life. As a child who was always on edge, either for fear of being abused or of being abandoned, anytime things seemed to be going my way, I questioned what would happen next, and I waited for the hammer to fall, for the shoe to drop, for the bottom to fall out.

As I got older, it seemed impossible to escape my fatalistic outlook.

So how did I change this lifelong perspective?

I did the work.

I evaluated where these messages came from, how they developed, and discovered when they became the default. I then had to teach (convince) myself that those messages were in error and draft new responses, sometimes more than once, because even with this awareness, I often fell back on the old patterns out of habit.

Yes, it helped that I had supportive family and friends, but the main thing was that I wanted to change.

I began to meditate – one minute a day at first. It was hard. It still surprises me how hard something so simple can be. Then I added a gratitude practice. I’d mentally record three things each evening before I fell asleep. Now, it’s an expanded list of ten things first thing in the morning before my feet hit the floor. (I have always thought that if a little bit of something is good, a lot must be better – I have learned that this does not apply to wine…)

My recent gratitude lists often contain elements related to the three most significant events of the past year:

• Successful major back surgery
• Publication of my memoir, Goodbye Again
• Stepping foot on Antarctica    

I am both at peace in my body and, perhaps more importantly, in my mind, and I hope you find the same.

May you be happy,

May you be healthy.

May you be safe.

May you live with ease.