Gratitude in the Trenches

Hey there, everybody.

As we used to sing at Christian summer camp, I’m alive/alert/awake/enthusiastic!

Or at least two of those are true. I’ll let you guess which ones.

I woke up today with a sense of gratitude. Not because I’m happy about the situation that my life has become, but because of what I have gotten from life up to this point. I don’t know what is coming next for me, but I feel an immense sense of gratitude for everything Kellie has brought to me, and that’s really important. I am grateful for a whole host of things, and it’s important to name and recognize what truly matters to me.

I slept a little less than six hours last night.

I have an important meeting this morning (between social work educators and the CSWMFT Board), then two counseling clients, and then at some point the highly-skilled cleaner who’s been highly recommended to me will come and survey the damage of my house to discuss what working with her would entail.

My dad has finally gotten to the end (!) of my dirty laundry, including washing my vast quantity of comfy blankets. So now he’s considering what next projects to embark upon.

I read eleven or twelve pages of a new book yesterday, which is immeasurably better than what I’ve been managing in a day. Slow going, that.

I’m showering much more consistently than I ever have, because it’s giving me a little bit of structure to my day. And even though I don’t love the boredom of a shower, it at least makes me feel slightly better than NOT showering. At this point, the difference between a few joyful moments and hours of being down and depressed feels like it might just be one slightly better feeling. It’s still early days, so who knows what it’ll be like long-term. I used to read in the shower (due to the aforementioned boredom) but I ruined a whole lot of books due to dropping them into the tub. So I’m not allowed to do that anymore, which just means getting in and out as quickly as I reasonably can.

So, gratitude.

I’m grateful that Kellie provided me with the skeleton of so much of my beliefs and values structure. I’ve told plenty of people this over the years, but I have a bunch of interests. I’ve had a really eclectic bunch of jobs in the past, much more varied than most. I could have gone in a lot of different directions, but it was Kellie who made me care about people, about compassion, and about making a positive difference. I could easily have gone into the direction of working with technology or programming. Kellie made me want to help, because she wanted to help. She wanted to make things easier for other people than they were for her. That’s what it comes down to. And that’s why I’m a social worker. I’m grateful that she was such an active participant in my life from 1996 to 2026.

I’m grateful that we’ve had such a variety of people who have rotated into and out of our orbit over those thirty years. Yes, plenty of those relationships have ended or changed over time. But like most orbits do, many of them have swung back around when their life circumstances have been right for that reconnection. And if those people hadn’t previously had those relationships with Kellie and I, they wouldn’t have come back and offered me the immense amount of support which is keeping me going right now.

I’m grateful for my clients (and Kellie’s). Maybe some people would consider this to be unprofessional or cynical or flawed in some other way, but I honestly believe that we don’t just give to others we work with in a clinical setting. They give to us as well. If there wasn’t that feedback loop of giving, I don’t know who would be able to keep going in this line of work for any length of time. My clients have shaped me, and Kellie’s clients have shaped her. Writing a nice piece of code might give you a real sense of satisfaction, but that’s nothing compared to walking alongside a client and seeing them able to find joy and peace that’s seemed out of reach in their life.

I’m grateful for my students (and Kellie’s). The reason that speech wrecked me emotionally last night is because it was genuine. Kellie had a real ability to form meaningful connections with people, and that extended into her work as an educator. She was never sure that she had as much to offer to her students as I did, but she was wrong. Everything she brought to life and to her relationships with her clients, she also brought to her relationships with students and her pursuit of their learning and development into social workers.

I’m grateful that I’m still here. I know I keep telling people who love me that I cannot imagine living life in her absence, but that’s more due to a lack of knowledge than a desire to not be alive. I cannot conceptualize what a life without Kellie’s active presence in it would look like, would feel like, or how I can possibly sustain myself without Kellie here with me. In my most bizarre dreams, I have never seriously pictured outliving her for any significant length of time. But that is at least a possibility (though I’m having to come to terms with the fact that we never have a clue about what will happen). I’m only 48 years old, and who knows how long I’m going to be around. But I’m grateful that my work is not yet done, even though I’m never going to be satisfied that Kellie’s work was done either.

I’m grateful for the food I can still enjoy, when I remember to eat. And for the water I love, when someone randomly texts me to drink it. I’m grateful that I can sleep, whether it’s for five hours or seven (never more than seven, though, thanks to the puppy).

I’m grateful for my family, for being here (whether physically or emotionally) and helping me with things I cannot do myself.

I’m grateful for Kellie’s family, for loving her and continuing to offer me love as well, even in the midst of their own grief.

And I’m grateful for my therapist, who continues to walk with me between all the landmines that have suddenly appeared in my daily life. She’s a special person.

No list of gratitude would be complete without speaking about Ivy and Coco. Even though I’ve now become a widowed single dad, they are (mostly) bearing with all these changes. Coco comes to comfort me when my sobbing gets too loud, and that’s really sweet. Ivy helps me too—cuddling with her in bed before she takes off to her spot is one of my daily highlights.

Keep holding me in the light (and in your prayers, too). They’re helping.

XOXO,

Matt