GRATITUDE WITH ATTITUDE

Feeling Truly Grateful for a Milder Than Anticipated Nervous Breakdown

Notes from the gratitude journal my daughter gave me for Christmas

Tuesday 3rd January 2023

Dear Universe,

Today I would like to express my sincere gratitude for the most wonderful gift you have ever given me: my dear, darling daughter. I am so proud of the free-spirited, pagan-god-worshiping, polyamorous hippie woman she has become, and so blessed to not have to think about purchasing extra underarm deodorant, lady razors, scented body spray, or hair spray when she comes to visit.

I greatly admire the steely resolve with which she has fully embraced the privileged, white, middle-class traveler lifestyle. Actually, she has yet to travel beyond California, but the idea that one day soon her busking money will enable her to take off to far-flung places keeps her going. It also keeps her out of secure employment. Which is a good thing — it’s precisely the corruption of societies built on the foundations of consumer capitalism that she’s determined to fight against.

And, if living in a van community on the edge of San Francisco—busking and protesting by day, and having copious sex with multiple partners in the back of her bus by night—is the only way to rail against the system, then so be it.

It’s a hard life, but meaningful change never comes easily. I help her out as much as I can, with a few hundred dollars here and there. Of course, I have to work a few more hours overtime at the abattoir each week, but that’s a small price to pay for political justice.

I haven’t seen my little girl for a few weeks, which is why I was so thrilled when she announced yesterday that she was coming to stay with me for an indefinite period of time. Two hours notice wasn’t inconvenient at all.

It was just enough time to excuse myself from an important work meeting (feigning a migraine), make up the bed, and dash across town to the only supermarket within a 40 mile radius that stocks the vegan brands my precious child insists on. Never mind that her food costs three times as much as my usual groceries — my beautiful daughter is priceless.

She arrived only seven hours late. Apparently she had to deal with some “heavy emotional shit” before hitting the road in her psychedelic live-in bus. Unfortunately, the old VW broke down on the Central Freeway, but it wasn’t really a problem as I pay an annual AAA membership fee on her behalf so she was able to get roadside assistance. It also gave her an opportunity to catch up with Hank, the breakdown mechanic. She knows every breakdown mechanic in San Francisco, because whenever she drives more than a couple of kilometers, she calls them to get her charming old bus moving again. Thanks Hank. I’m truly grateful for you.

When I opened the door, I wasn’t at all surprised to see that my dear daughter had brought three quintessential ragamuffins with her. As she is polyamorous, I’ve met literally dozens of her lusty companions over the past couple of years. They all seem genuinely lovely though—and I’m forever grateful for that. Also? They all seem to be able to juggle, which is an amazingly practical skill that can be used anywhere.

I was absolutely delighted when they instantly transformed my home into a patchouli-scented, sage-burning, acoustic guitar strumming, crystal oasis of love, peace and harmony.

I mustn’t forget to give eternal thanks for their kitchen skills too. I will never forget the constant rounds of tofu stir-fries, quinoa dishes, and granola smoothies that have become my staple diet for the foreseeable future (Note to self: need to buy another case of dishwashing soap and more moisturizer for my chapped hands).

I also greatly appreciate the crazy abstract art the four of them created on my kitchen counter tops — a mixed media collage of peelings, crumbs, unwashed dishes, spilled sauces, a delicious variety of used herbal teabags, and a cornucopia of wilted vegetables. So original and colorful.

I never knew there were so many homemade, organic personal hygiene concoctions — the Manuka honey and seaweed shampoo, the Himalayan mud and Moroccan Thuja tree bark shower gel, and the soap made of woodland ant entrails.

Of course, I didn’t mind at all when my boundary-free offspring asked to borrow my underwear. After all, she never forgets to return intimate items that have been snuggling against her nether regions for 16 straight hours, post-sex. It’s a testament to the unique, untethered bond shared between mother and daughter. A few 90 degree washes should sort my panties out no problem before I bury them in the woods.

Furthermore, I can hardly wait to spend many more of my days “chatting shit” about the power of manifestation, the joys of veganism, and the best places to buy fair trade incense holders, not to mention dreaming up innovative, extremely dangerous ways we might save the planet.

Finally, I’m especially looking forward to participating in the group meditation sessions, menstrual yoga retreats, and healing drum circles my lovely daughter has booked online with my credit card.

Yes, I am truly overjoyed by these opportunities to totally embrace my inner flower child. And I’m sure this suddenly imposed bohemian lifestyle will be a most enlightening and transformative experience for me.

So, once again I offer my never-ending gratitude to the Universe. And to the hundreds of roaches now swarming my kitchen, I am grateful for you too. May your journey be peaceful.

Namaste.

Wouldn’t you rather by laughing? Follow MuddyUm, and Carla Fandango.