So perhaps I bitch a lot and publicly grieve about the struggles I face
in raising Calvin. But all in all I’m a pretty happy camper. It’s not
clear to me, however, if that sense comes through in my writing, and so I
have begun to ponder the question daily when I sit down at my computer
to compose, edit and reread my blog posts.
I am acutely aware that my entries deal with difficult, sad and often painful subject matter. And it’s because of that that I take measures to avoid a monotony of utter blackness while still deeply exploring and describing my memories and emotions, many of which are quite grim.
But besides being happy, I am—and have been since childhood—an eternal optimist and idealist. These characteristics may contribute, at least partly, to the fact that I have survived, and my marriage has thrived, in the face of the less-than-ideal circumstance of having a severely disabled child—despite the fact that I love Calvin to pieces.
As I write this I realize, too, that a few essential elements instrumental to my present happiness—which seems to bob like a buoy atop a violent, dark and unpredictable sea—is my sense of humor and love of a good joke or clever witticism. And, to be completely honest, as many of my closest friends will attest, when it comes to bawdy one-liners, I think I usually take the cake.
So I guess my secret to being a happy camper—which I am glad to share here—is to bitch, grieve, struggle, ponder, write, read, explore, dream, survive, thrive, love, realize, bob, joke and eat plenty of cake.
Originally published January 2011.
I am acutely aware that my entries deal with difficult, sad and often painful subject matter. And it’s because of that that I take measures to avoid a monotony of utter blackness while still deeply exploring and describing my memories and emotions, many of which are quite grim.
But besides being happy, I am—and have been since childhood—an eternal optimist and idealist. These characteristics may contribute, at least partly, to the fact that I have survived, and my marriage has thrived, in the face of the less-than-ideal circumstance of having a severely disabled child—despite the fact that I love Calvin to pieces.
As I write this I realize, too, that a few essential elements instrumental to my present happiness—which seems to bob like a buoy atop a violent, dark and unpredictable sea—is my sense of humor and love of a good joke or clever witticism. And, to be completely honest, as many of my closest friends will attest, when it comes to bawdy one-liners, I think I usually take the cake.
So I guess my secret to being a happy camper—which I am glad to share here—is to bitch, grieve, struggle, ponder, write, read, explore, dream, survive, thrive, love, realize, bob, joke and eat plenty of cake.
Originally published January 2011.
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