And Now Before I Die: The Great Fishbowl of Gratitude

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These first days of January 2025 will feel eerily similar to the last days of December 2024. This might be because they share the same week!

And this might be the problem. Time always ticks by like nothing has changed, no page has turned, no life has aged. This is not good for me — as one who can hyperfocus on what’s in front of me while Time, that ageless sneaky dude, slips past me long before I wake up to realize I’ll need to scramble to do the things I said for years I wanted to do before it’s too late.

This year, though, during these early days of January, I’d like to figure out how I’ll start telling the people in my life how grateful I am for them.

This is because I don’t know how long I have left.

Don’t gasp. It’s true. While I’m healthy as any metric can determine, and the chances are low, you never know. I’m not in charge of how things play out in the cemetery. The problem is I never believe I’m going to die. It’s the homo sapiens in me. As much as I try to accept my future end, I try even harder to ignore it.

Even if I don't die — the greater likelihood — which would be better: knowing someone appreciated you sooner? Or later?

Let me put it this way — I never told my grandparents how much they meant to me, and this is my unfortunate eternal bummer.

This leads me to the realization that I need to spread my gratitude — or else. I’m going on four years this summer of writing two stories a week — one personal essay, one humor — and this is all thanks to my grave realization that the one big regret I’d certainly have at the end of my life is if I never tried to write.

I go for things sometimes. Once you’ve gone for something and look back with huge gratitude for your younger self’s commitment, you know for the rest of your life you can do it again. This is my fortunate eternal gold.

I want to be grateful to myself — and breathe a sigh of relief — that I told those in my life how much I loved and appreciated them.

Don’t have regrets, girl.

Where do I start? Somewhere tiny perhaps. Maybe it doesn’t need to be a twenty-page explanation, rolling out every memory to each person. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be perfect. Gratitude isn’t in the perfection family anyway. It’s in the smiley-fuzzy-cuddly family. They live on opposite ends of the continent.

So, how to be smiley-cuddly and start small? Good question.

Since I have many people to thank, maybe a more systematic approach would be helpful. I remember I coached someone once who had a nifty idea of dropping a piece of paper into a fishbowl that noted each accomplishment of her day. She could see her accomplishments add up. It emboldened her to continue her work. I could use the fishbowl technique as a metric for those I’ve contacted or as a lottery draw for those I’ll contact next. Add to it or draw from it. See how far I’ve come or how far I have left to go — either one, a motivator.

Once I’ve chosen a person, what do I say? Where do I start? How can I make it short, sweet, and meaningful? I don’t want to come off as rushing the appreciation. I want to be true to the person, sharing examples of how they’ve influenced me positively. But suddenly this sounds like a monumental task.

I’ve been contemplating this project for years, yet haven’t started it because of how big it seems — so much writing and thinking. I’m tired just imagining the whole thing.

And doesn’t this sound like the perfect conversation for me to have with Coach Steph? This is exactly what my clients come to me with — monumental goals that seem exhausting impossibilities. Maybe I can remind myself that reaching the start line of my first ultramarathon took decades, and the best part was that I never once realized I was heading there. I got to that first start line in my early forties by simply having run since I was a teenager as if I’d had no goal other than to get some miles in that morning. The shower afterward was the real struggle.

Maybe these letters are those morning miles. The application of the postage stamp to the corner of each envelope is the arduous shower. If I do it this way, I bet I’ll look at my final letter as the ultimate ultramarathon of grace and love — and the finest race I’ve run.

Because: What’s the why here?

Good question, Coach. If I tap into the depths of what’s underneath my need to express appreciation, I see something extraordinary emerge.

We’re all in this together.

I just started reading Edith Eger’s book, The Choice. I’m not too far into it, but I predict it will make a lasting impression. Edith is one of the last of the Auschwitz survivors still alive, and she’s also an influential psychologist who made her life here in the US after the war. Like Victor Frankl, she has much to say about mindset and what can be done within ourselves regarding how we experience life.

I can easily drag my view of myself along the ground. While I know the pivot away from this mindset happens in only one place — my head — I also know that my life has been a beautiful slice of time here on Earth due to the people around me. They have shown me kindness. They have expressed appreciation for me. They have laughed at my jokes or teared up at my words. They’ve listened to what I have to say and have been endlessly generous with their time and help.

These beautiful people? They are the big, fuzzy-cuddly pillow of humanity in which I sit, and I can’t leave this life without thanking them. I won’t.

My list of thanks won’t come close to reaching all the people who’ve made small but true differences for me. Even random kindness from strangers has a positive effect on our well-being. I hope those folks will be on someone else’s list out there.

Our lists combined might cover the teachers, cooks, trash collectors, doctors, store clerks, songwriters, babysitters, bus drivers, researchers, athletes, factory workers, managers, nurses, writers, and housecleaners out there. The list has no end.

This is why I will find a nice glass container today, set it near my desk, cut up some slips of paper, and inaugurate the Great Fishbowl of Gratitude.

We’re all in this fishbowl of life together. Life is short. Appreciation is forever.

Thanks, Coach. :-)

You’re welcome. ;-)

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I start my Gratitude Project right here by letting you all know I’m very grateful for your support these last three+ years. Your readership has meant so much to me. Your comments in the blog, via email, and in person have lifted my heart. You make me feel like I’m helping in some small way. Thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness. Happy New Year to you all.