Let’s count our blessings for a second, shall we, Ghost?

There’s Eden, for a start. My sweet, serious, slightly emo Boston Terrier with the single eye. I love her so much. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk today, in fresh woodsy air with lots of fallen leaves and some other dogs to sniff. Her olfactory sense is the only fully functioning one these days, and I feel lucky that I was able to get her out of downtown and trade all of its awful smells, people behaving in distressing ways, truck air brakes, and endless pavement (all things that frighten her), for pine needles and leaves and interesting squirrel smells on trees.

There’s Penny, my intrepid, sweet kitten who is now almost 7 months old and wise beyond her years. She’s excellent at being a cat. She knows when to lap and when to nap, and when to attack toys with a vengeance. Also, she fetches hair ties that I flick for her, and she’s super good at it. Lately, I’ve noticed that she’s learned to be more gentle with her claws around my skin (mostly I think she doesn’t like it when I shriek because I’m (a) caught in a claw trap, or (b) I’ve reached for the hair tie before she was ready for me to throw it). In any case, I appreciate that every morning when I wake up, she gets up from her spot on the bed and comes to lie on my chest for pets, and she PURRS. In the afternoons, she sleeps on my lap while I work. I feel very lucky to have her.

I have my health. More or less. My trip to the ER was eye-opening and gratitude-inducing. I was there with a flesh wound, not terminal diseases, kidney failure, or addiction issues.

I have a roof over my head. So many here do not.

I have moved to a beautiful place where I can go outside and breathe forest air. I’ve said that this is good for Eden, but it’s good for me, too. I am feeding hummingbirds again, something I loved to do in Albuquerque. I’m not regularly begging people sleeping in my doorway to move (and shoving some of them out of the way when they won’t wake up) so I can take my stressed-out pup to pee. I’m not being accosted every single day by people who want money and then yell obscenities when I don’t give it to them, or generally want to scream at me that I’m a bitch. I hated those things, but obviously didn’t take them personally. Most of those people are in a circle of hell that I don’t understand, and they’re not really directing their venom at me. But it’s still gross.

I’m grateful that my parents have finally moved into assisted living, which they desperately needed. The fallout from this in terms of the house that they refuse to sell that is falling apart in the forests of Colorado is future Christina’s problem.

I have a good job. They give me a good bonus every year, and I don’t hate the work. My team is a bunch of really good people.

I did not get an infection from the dog bite I experienced recently, despite being told at the hospital that 80% of dog and cat bites become infected, and mine was a doozy.

I have survived the last three years. I’m still here. I’m still breathing.

I have some supportive people in my life.

I still have Marcus, to whatever extent he allows. I recognize that the degree of our interactions should also be on my terms, but I think I’m more flexible in this regard than he is.

I’m coming to terms with the fact that my BMX career is likely over. At least until I’m able to move somewhere that I have access to a track again. I’m aware that I need to switch gears, and my mindset, to find something else that truly makes me, me. The constant desire to ride those bikes and the constant inability to do so has been a source of dissonance on a cellular level for three years. I need to let it go.

What I don’t seem to have these days is purpose. I don’t exist for anyone but my pets, and while that is a good reason to keep existing, I feel like I need more.

But that’s something to work out with my therapist. If you feel like adding to this list, Ghost, feel free to reach out through the ether. I’m listening, and I hear practicing gratitude is self-care.