I get to

I don’t know how this mental switch started or when but let’s say it was recently (unrelated – why does it matter when?). I’ve started restating items that stress me out or cause a sensation of numbness to come over me as “I get to…”. While on this recent stint in Europe, I’ve been dreading the metro in Paris as some trips we’ve ended up being slammed together body to body in a way only reminiscent of my time in San Francisco. As we’re hurtling along with anxiety and fatigue overwhelming me, I question every decision that brought me to that point.

“I get to be in Paris with my mom for the World Cup. I get to be on this Metro with all of these other lovely humans just for this oh so brief moment in time. I get to.”

This trick has become my secret weapon of sorts even in the most mundane circumstances. While home in Florida recently, I struggled to get myself to the gym after arriving a bit on fumes in preparation for this trip I’m on now.

“I get to use and connect with my body. I get to do pull-ups. I get to do squats. I get to be in air conditioning while I work out! I get to be healthy.”

For some reason, the simple phrase “I get to” triggers in me a cascading reaction of gratitude. What felt like a chore, burden, hassle, stressor now feels so much lighter and more like a chance I’ve stumbled my way into.

Today, I’m exhausted and in Grenoble suffering from pangs of guilt around not venturing outside today. After calling for the second timeout this week, my mom and I agreed to have another relaxing day.

“I get to relax in Grenoble. I get to find my center in Grenoble. I get to have a normal day in Grenoble!”

I like the sound of that 🙂

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