Lassitude Journal

George shifted nervously in the chair as he told the therapist about the new development with the woman he loved. Another relationship seemed to be failing. He couldn't believe it. Was he that horrible to be with? 

“George? Did you hear my question?” the therapist asked.

“I'm so sorry. I must have zoned out for a second.”

“That’s alright; I was asking if you could start working on that gratitude journal I mentioned. I think it will help you tremendously right now. “

“Oh, I don't know if that will help me. It’s not the best of time right now.”

“I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but that is why I believe the gratitude journal will be helpful. I know you have resisted the idea, but I just wanted you to jot down a few things you are grateful for. It doesn't have to be a lot. Just a start, and when you see the benefits of it, you will be writing without me even asking, I promise.” 

“Okay, I will try it, I guess.” 

“Great, I believe we are out of time. I can't wait to hear what you write next week. . .” 

George couldn’t wait, so he cut her off. 

“Do you think my girlfriend wants to leave me? Like based on what I shared ?” 

“George, try as much as you can not to fret over every word your girlfriend says. I know that's very hard for you, but she loves you. Just try to be there for her. I will see you next week at the same time.”

George left the therapist’s office inconsolably and purchased a notebook from a local Walgreens. It took him about twenty minutes to figure out what notebook to buy. First, he wasn't sure about the size or color. He then bought a composition book because he realized he was wasting time. 

Sitting on his couch, he turned on the television at first but didn't watch anything. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his texts and snaps to see if his girlfriend messaged him today. Of course, she didn't. He wanted to text her and tell her how much he missed her every second of the day, but he stopped himself and scrolled through Instagram instead. He smiled at some funny memes. He was going to share them but stopped himself again. He looked and saw the notebook. He sighed heavily and picked it up with a sense of reluctance. 

He got a pen and flipped the notebook open, the crisp sound of the paper echoing in the quiet room. He stared at the empty lines that seemed to stretch forever, and with a grunt of frustration, he started writing. A second later, he ripped the page. He didn’t like the “ dear diary” vibe, so he restarted with sharp and hurried handwriting. 

Well, hello, journal,

So, I guess I have to write a few things for which I am grateful. I am thankful for who I am. I am a sensible, loving, intelligent man with great humor. I am very independent. I can cook, and I mean really cook. I can bake ( and no, not the Covid banana bread) and clean. I am in good shape, and some say I am handsome. Due to such an abundance of beautiful qualities, the women I loved ended up leaving me or, you know, telling me it's not my fault (how fucking cliche). I also have no friends and spend most of my time alone. More on that later. 

I am grateful for my family, who raised me and made me the wonderful person I am today. I'm thankful for my grandfather. He is dead now, of course. He died young, too. My aunt said he died of heartbreak after we left the country (I am from Romania). She said it was not the diabetes. It's wild that I used to live with him growing up and never spoke to him when I moved to the US. My parents told me we were going for a few months. I never even said goodbye to my grandfather when I think about it. He was a bit of a homophone and a little uppity, but you know who wasn't during those times. 

While on the topic of family, I am grateful for my father, who showed me what a real man is. Apparently, a real man is a chauvinist woman-abuser and child-beater who can't say I love you or I am proud of you to his children. Actually, I'm sorry I'm being harsh. He was a great provider. He gave me a lot of traumas and anxieties. I became a people pleaser, an overthinker who can't set boundaries and cannot communicate. He also gave me this white hair that overtook my scalp; I am not even forty. So, yes, I am very grateful for this man.

Then there is my mother. She was truly exceptional. She was a good person, and everyone loved her. Of course, she also died at a young age and left me with my great-father. She taught me to be loving, sweet, and kind to others no matter what. Hence why, people take advantage of this abundant kindness and then toss it aside. My mother also believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. She always told me to go for more and to keep improving. So now, I am never satisfied with anything I achieve. 

Another gift I am grateful for is my sister, who also has a lot of mental and emotional issues. How could you not when your mother died when you were seven and being raised by a maniacal Father and a brother who is trying to raise himself. 

I am grateful I'm part of a big family. I have seven cousins on my mother’s side and seven on my father’s side, fourteen of whom I never see. I haven't seen some of them for almost a decade because they live on different continents. Those who live close are the ones I see at weddings and funerals, and honestly, I would much prefer I didn't. 

I’m grateful for the friends I made through the years. There were not many of them, of course. I am thankful for Willam, who was essentially me but the upgraded version. He was a good, lively friend and understood me without even trying. He died a few years ago, and it's been tough without him. He was the last piece in my life puzzle that showed me that loss is my theme. I'm grateful for Matt, my friend, for many years. Unfortunately he turned into a very strange person after meeting this woman. He moved away many years ago, but he managed to tell me the week before. I am thankful for Andrew, who became my default friend after all the others had slowly faded. He is a good person but too busy and tired to do anything remotely fun. He doesn't even leave his house. 

I am grateful for my career. I am a teacher, so everyone respects us. My students, their parents, supervisors, and society value me. I get paid generously in peanuts to work with teenagers who live around the school and are legally forced to sit in front of me, which is always great. Their energy, dedication, and work ethic are outstanding. I'm thankful for living the dream because that is a dream.

George’s mind wandered, struggling to find things to be genuinely thankful for. Each word felt forced and a hollow exercise in forced positivity. Writing this journal, which is supposed to bring him peace and perspective, only highlighted his discontent with life. He picked up his phone again and checked for a message, but alas, there was nothing. Frustrated, he snapped the journal shut and tossed it aside, feeling no lighter than when he started. He leaned back on the couch, rubbing his temples, hoping the following entry might be easier.