I was on the blog The Happiness Project and author Gretchen Rubin was talking about giving thanks when bad things don't happen, rather than only when good things do. She likened avoiding catastrophes to a Sherlock Holmes story where the sleuth uncovers a murderer because he realizes the nearby hound never barked, meaning that the villain had to be someone who knew the pooch. Rubin discussed that one of the foibles of people is that they will worry and worry about incoming test results or the phone ringing in middle of the night, but they rarely give notice when said test results are negative or loved ones stay safe. She urged people to give thanks for the "dog that doesn't bark"... for the bad things that never happen.
Giving thanks for when things turn out okay is such a simple concept. If I'm being totally honest, I think this article stuck with me because I have a black belt in worrying. For instance, I get a knot in my stomach before parent-teacher conferences lest I have a nasty parent who is batshit crazy, even though I've only met a very few like that in the eight years I've been working. I'm the one who tosses and turns until I have to get up to write out a "to do" list while Dan is snoring five minutes after his head hits the pillow. Too often, I will rehash conversations with people and worry whether I said the wrong thing and that some weird interaction will occur in the future. It suddenly hit me after reading Rubin's blog that I expend useless energy worrying as a type of superstitious warding off of bad things. Like a twisted version of the Field of Dreams quote, sometimes I really think: If I worry enough, it won't happen.
Often, the worry that was screaming in my head never comes to pass. You know, when the parent-teacher conference goes smoothly or the car inspection is all clear, I don't give it a second thought. Who notices the dog that doesn't bark? Rubin has a point about that being kind of a sad habit of people.
I've already posted about the car accident I was in two years ago that really shook me up. Some teenager on his cell phone ran a red light and smashed into my driver's side, propelling me into oncoming traffic. My car was totalled, but I walked away with only a few cuts and bruises. You can see in the pictures below there are shards of safety glass from the window that shattered:
That night, I took home a piece of the shattered window. It kind of looked like soothing, blue-green beach glass. It was my relic, a reminder of how thankful I needed to be for how that crash turned out, and give thanks for the people in my life. I was okay, I kept repeating to myself. The glass had cracks in it, and it eventually crumbled to bits when I picked it up, and I had to throw it out because it was just gravel at the bottom of my jewelry box, but Rubin's post kind of brought that feeling of gratitude back.
Dan and I didn't put slips in the thankful jar about things that turned out okay, but I have countless ones. For the home owners' annoyances we've never had to deal with. For the scary interactions and sad experiences we've never gone through. For the happiness, health, and safety of Dan and me, our friends, and family. Thank goodness for every metaphorical dog that didn't bark.
The End of "Deep thoughts with Christen"- ha ha! :) Does this concept resonate with any of you?
