Being Thankful: Part 1

23 11 2009

Lately things kind of suck on the work front, and the malaise I feel as a result is spilling over into my life. I’d whine about it, but the truth is I hate whining, especially when done in the week of thanksgiving. I take Thanksgiving seriously. It’s not just a day for me. I try to be thankful all year. Even when suckiness abounds. Actually, especially when it does. There is no better time to remember that the good in your life outweighs the bad.

So this week I am going to do the thing everyone else with a blog is doing, and I’m going to detail the things I am most thankful for. I will force the thankful into me damn it, and maybe it will push some of the woe is me out.

Today since I’m doing the obvious thing post-wise, I will start with the least obvious thing that I am thankful for — my husband. I say that this is not so obvious, because I tease the poor guy mercilessly. I can really dish it out. You’d think I disliked him if you heard it. He of course can dish it right back.  I think our back and forth makes for an interesting marriage personally. We are certainly never bored.

I am thankful for his presence in my life. If you know me, you know that I am an anxiety-filled wreck. Take any good situation, and I will someone find something to feel anxious about. Anxiety keeps me up at night. It starts with me trying to workup my to do list for the next day and ends with me frantically putting together a spreadsheet with a year-long budget for our household or scouring websites about deadly diseases or trying to figure out how we’re going to buy a new car that we will surely need to buy because I think I heard a slight rattle when we turned left this morning. On those nights, Roger knows how to bring me back down to Earth, to help me be rational again. He doesn’t discount my feelings. He listens and helps me understand why everything really is all right or at least manageable. Then he helps me manage it. I’m fully aware that most people would call me a kook then roll over and go back to sleep. I’m really lucky, and I’m thankful for it.

But that’s not all. Roger is my biggest fan and my biggest ally. He is a loving father, not just to Azita but also to our dear little kitties — Buzz and Maggie. He contributes a great deal to running the household, and I don’t even need to ask him.  He tells me I’m pretty and looking thin, even when I know I’m looking chubby and rough around the edges. At the same time, he’s honest with me when I ask him how an outfit looks (that’s actually a good thing to me, just so we’re clear). He writes me lovely letters, and he has many times stayed up late with me so we could talk into the wee hours of the morning. He loads my iPod with my favorite music, and with new music that he knows will become some of my favorites. He lets me vent to him when I really need to vent and lets me know when I’m crossing over into whiny bore territory. He cooks me dinner when I have no time for cooking, and he stays out of the kitchen when I am indulging in some much-needed cooking therapy. He doesn’t whine about all of the crazy hobbies I decide to pick up, nor about all of the stuff I have laying around from said crazy hobbies after they don’t pan out. That includes an autoharp, by the way. I am not joking. An autoharp.

Clearly there are many reasons to be thankful for Roger. There are many more I haven’t mentioned, mostly because I can’t remember them now. But they do exist, and I’m sure they’ll come to me as soon as I hit the Publish button.

Don’t let him know it, but I like having him around. And I am really thankful that he loves me.

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One response

24 11 2009
Cara

What a beautiful post, Zahra. It is your similarities and your differences that make you so well suited for each other. And the banter? Is CUTE!

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