The Gratitude Journal

When my sister told me I should start a gratitude journal, I rolled my eyes. Really? After the year I’ve had? What could I possibly have to be grateful for? I lost my aunt, best friend and entire business to Covid. The idea of “giving thanks” seemed completely paradoxical. But she insisted. I didn’t even know where to get one.

“Anywhere! Just buy a pen and a notebook. It’s not that hard.”

We’re in the middle of a global pandemic and people are still casually telling you to just buy something. A little insensitive if you ask me.

I never understood how my sister so effortlessly had a better life than me. We had the same genes, came from parents, neighborhood, schools- the only thing that really separated us was that she always thought positive, and I…

I always thought the worst was gonna happen.

But for the sake of appeasing her, I decided to try this gratitude journal thing. I literally have nothing to lose.

Luckily, I live in Brooklyn. There are garbage parades every day here. Well, that’s what I call them. In the nicer neighborhoods the garbage parades can be pretty good. You might be able to pick up a book that’s still on the best seller list, or maybe Reese’s Book Club. (Hey, I loved the movie Fear, and she picks good authors. Don’t judge me.)

I found this mysterious, yet beautiful black moleskin notebook on 3rd Street in Park Slope. It’s the perfect road for social distancing, since the sidewalks are unusually wide. Supposedly they used to have street cars on it or something. Don’t quote me on this. I get my local history lessons from one night stands. They could be speaking just to fill the dead air.

It made sense that people would throw away books they’ve already read, but why would you throw away a notebook you haven’t written anything in yet? That’s like throwing away something with potential, like a roll of toilet paper or something. You could still technically use it. So when I saw the notebook on the stoop, I grabbed it. This would be my gratitude notebook. If nothing else, I was grateful it was free.

When I showed my sister I was following through with her suggestion, she laughed.

“A BLACK gratitude journal?”

Wow. I was just doing what she told me to do, and I was still getting criticized?

“Actually… it’s very you. Remember what I told you about the law of attraction. Try to keep things positive in there, if no where else…”

Right. She wants me to have a warm and fuzzy diary when what I could really use is a cold and stabby one. I don’t even know when I’m supposed to write. The morning? But I’ll have nothing to report at that hour... Maybe I should write at night, like Carrie Bradshaw or Mr. Belvedere. Easier to put the day in perspective.

I'm not exactly sure how this is gonna help, or if it will, but I guess I should try. This little black book is now a piece of tangible hope... my last resort.

I opened the book on Tuesday. I meant to start Monday, but couldn’t pull it together to even find a pen that worked.

Tuesday

Hello, gratitude journal. It’s me, your owner. Well, second owner technically. I kind of inherited you, in a way that almost feels like theft. (It's the Brooklyn eco-system. It's legal.) Do I have to be grateful for something huge and significant every day, or can I just keep it basic? I know it’s not much, but I’m happy I finally found a pen that works. I usually take them from hotels, but I haven’t traveled in over a year, so most of the ones I scored in Vegas are dead now. Still, this Radisson one is still alive, so here I am. Also, I’m grateful I have $20,000 in the bank. Could be worse.

Wednesday

I’m back. Had a good sleep last night. I know we have all the time in the world to sleep these days, but it doesn’t mean it’s that easy. Some nights I toss, turn and worry about things that haven’t even happened yet. But last night was a solid sleep. I even woke up a little optimistic. So I’m grateful for that. And obviously I’m happy I have twenty g’s in the bank, but I know I said that yesterday.

Thursday

Okay, this is stupid, but today I’m grateful I don’t have a canker. You’re always so irritated when you have one, but you never stop to appreciate the moments you don’t. I saw the Oral-Gel in the drug store and immediately had PTSD. I swirled my tongue around my mouth, felt no bumps and immediately felt grateful. I hit the snack aisle and impulsively bought salt & vinegar chips. I was there to buy deodorant but you often blow thirty bucks at CVS when you only meant to spend eight. It’s okay though, cuz I have $20,000 in the bank.

Friday

I’m not gonna say TGIF. That’s hacky, plus there’s no such thing as FRIYAY when you’re unemployed. Every day is like a numb Saturday or Sunday. I actually wish I could have that Sunday vibe again... That “day-off-but-work-tomorrow” feeling… I miss it. But I am grateful I don’t have to scroll Yelp to see hints of my bad days on the Internet. That’s DEFINITELY something to be grateful for. That and the twenty thousand bucks in my bank account.

Saturday

Okay, okay, I’ll be grateful for something more significant today. I'm thankful for my sister. She really is there for me even when I’m scowling like an extra in The Craft. How people don’t give up on each other is a mystery to me. I’m almost embarrassed I’ve never acknowledged this before. I’m not much of a writer. I’ve never kept a diary, but having this paper, and the need to put something on it, has really made me spew out shit I’d never say normally. Maybe this is good for me? I should take that 20 G’s I have in the bank and do something nice for her.

ONE MONTH LATER

Sunday

I went on a date. It didn’t even suck. I don’t go into these things assuming they'll go right, but this time it did. He even likes his nachos the same way I do. (No olives, extra jalapeños.) So today, it's a no-brainer. I’m grateful for a fun night. It’s been a while. I’m almost wondering if showing all this gratitude actually leads to more things to be grateful for. Is that the point? I dunno. I feel good though. He even paid, so I didn’t have to dip into that $20,000 I have in the bank.

Monday

I went to the bank machine today. I like to pull out cash from the Bank of America ATM when I’m in a neighborhood that’s not as sketchy as my own. I usually hit “no receipt” at the end of the transaction, cuz I don’t need to see my balance, but for some weird reason, I decided to hit "print." And when I saw the little white piece of paper, I almost collapsed.

It said $20,235.56.

I know the $235.56 is mine, but where the hell did the $20,000 come from?

I know I have consistently written $20,000 in this little black moleskin book for the past month, but the truth is…

I never had it.

I'm totally broke.

I was just trying to visualize a world where I did.

My sister said you can manifest things if you really picture the life you really want.

I put mine on paper.

I highly recommend.