I do a lot of journal blogging as a way to grapple with mental illness, or vent about the stresses and frustrations of daily life. It helps, and sometimes it even helps other people, which still seems kinda amazing to me. Talking honestly about pain and illness is important, I think.
Today, though, I was heating up leftover pizza in the oven, singing an old favorite tune under my breath, and without really thinking I said to myself “life is good,” and meant it. Nothing special behind it, just a moment of quiet satisfaction with my state of being. Considering how the last few weeks have gone, that seems worth making a note of.