In Gratitude Or Ingratitude?

It’s an old problem with me, particularly this time of year.  Other people are expressing their gratitude for this or that, and no matter how much I wish it were otherwise, all too often I’m just not feeling the gratitude . . . and I don’t mean mine, which I can feel just fine.

I can’t feel theirs.

I try to tell myself that the fault must be mine, that I’m just being cynical or worse for not being able to sense the sincerity behind their words . . . but in my heart I don’t believe that any more than I can believe them.  I’ll be the first to admit that my cynicism, while quite real, is only a veneer I use to mask my optimism, so I want to believe them when they use words like “wonderful” or “perfect” or “gift,” and sometimes I do.   Not often, I admit, but sometimes, just enough to make me realize that where ever the truth of the matter lies, it’s not quite as simple as there being something “wrong” with me.  There are times I wish it were that simple though, because then that would mean that only one person had a problem.

May all your gratitudes be real.

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