I have a cup

I have a cup

It’s a lovely and sturdy cup

Is it full?

Is it empty?

What’s in there?

Is it half full?

Is it half empty?

Something is in there

Why do you tell me how to view my cup?

Do you know its contents?

Do you know what my cup is made of?

My cup has

Spilled

Overflowed

Burned my fingers

Chipped

Knocked over

Cracked

Repaired

AND it has never

Gathered dust in the cupboard

What a lovely and sturdy work of art

A gift

My cup

This poem rolled out of my brain through my fingers quite quickly as the curtain came down on 2023. Instead of saying Happy New Year, I changed that salutation to It Will Be a Year. As I’ve written about in previous posts, we’ve learned that control over our lives is an illusion. Who am I to say that next year will be a happy one? This I know: it will be a year.

After fighting what we (and the doctor) thought was a horrible flu for a week, William was hospitalized for 3 nights and diagnosed with a mysterious kidney infection. He was discharged on Dec. 31, 2023, then had to recuperate at home and miss the first week of winter term. Meanwhile, Marguerite, my mother in law, ended up in the ER in the same hospital at the same time as William, and was diagnosed with an inoperable and malignant brain tumor.

So yeah, 2023 ended with a slam that shouted “don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” 

It has become exceedingly difficult for me to focus on the positive the past couple of years. And I feel icky about that. We’ve heard all the sayings – the power of positive thinking, make it a great day, attitude is everything, look on the bright side, fake it till you make it, have a positive attitude, choose happy.

Like many of us, I’ve been marinating in these cultural platitudes since my memory began, and believed them. To the point where it seems to be a moral failing to not have a positive outlook on life. We’re constantly reminded to be grateful. Because grateful people are happy and happy people are grateful.

Really? 

It’s not that simple. 

(My first draft read “I’m sorry, but it’s not that simple. Except I’m trying not to apologize for things that don’t need apologizing. My writing is one of them.)

I’ve been keeping a gratitude journal for about nine years. Every night I bullet the good things of the day and things that I feel gratitude for. My goal has always been to write just one thing. What do you know? 99% of the time I write at least five. There’s a lot of goodness in a day to be noticed when we pay attention. All my little notebooks are piled in a box in my closet. They’re a tangible reminder of my gratitude practice. A practice that’s now as habitual as brushing my teeth.

I’ve come to believe you can feel gratitude AND still struggle to feel positive. To feel despair and be grateful. 

Joy and pain can and do coexist, sometimes in the same day or even the same moment. Yet sometimes we have to cultivate awareness to notice and feel the joy.

Through our family’s pain and losses of the past two years, it seemed I had become that person who looks at the cup as half-empty, not half-full. And it’s made me feel bad about myself. When people around me would “bright side” the moment, I felt resistant, even resentful. The “brighter” the approach, the darker I’d feel. At times, I found myself avoiding conversations or situations where I couldn’t show up as my authentic (authentically negative!) self.

What was wrong with me? Would I ever be able to focus on positivity again? Is it a matter of willpower, this positive mindset? I don’t know.

One thing I do know is I enjoy listening to podcasts. Some of my favorites are We Can Do Hard Things, Love Period, and All There Is. This cup half-full vs.half empty philosophy was addressed in one of them. While I can’t recall the specifics of said podcast, I do remember what was said: I have a cup.

That’s right. 

It does not matter whether my cup is half-full or half empty. What’s essential is that I HAVE A CUP.

Those four words have been revolutionary for me in reframing my life situation. (Reminder: your life situation is not your life.)

I’ve been thinking about this half full/half empty cup of mine quite often.

I realize my cup is a precious and beloved gift and worth cherishing…no matter what’s brewing inside of it or how it looks. 2024 will be a year. For me and my cup.