It’s the little things that count

As human beings, it’s easy for us to look at the negative rather than the positive. If we make a mistake, we beat ourselves up over it. We look to blame someone or something else. The negative is easy. We should be paying attention to the little things that bring us joy and appreciation in our lives.

After arriving at work Friday night, I learned the computers were upgraded. Somehow, I screwed something up and my email was empty. I didn’t get angry. I was slightly frustrated, but, for the first time in decades, I took the moment in which my anger would have skyrocketed and thought about what happened.

It’s the little things that count.

I’ve been working hard for the past few months on my emotional dysregulation to see and react to things differently. It’s only in the last six months or so that I even started thinking about how I react to situations isn’t how everyone else behaves.

It’s the little things that count.

I know enough about computers to know there are several options to explain why my email did not work. The most obvious is I did something wrong. It’s not my personal computer, so I didn’t want to muck about with the system to try and fix it myself.

It was nearing 11 p.m. I knew the issue couldn’t be fixed until Monday, at the earliest. It’s not an emergency, so I shouldn’t be thinking about it as if it was. It’s going to take time to resolve and that’s okay.

It’s the little things that count.

I made a joke to my coworker about who was I should email to let them know my email was down. I emailed my boss and her boss via my personal email on my phone. I dislike emailing something more than a sentence or two on my phone. I didn’t get angry then, either. I didn’t realize it until three hours later. I just sent the email.

It’s the little things that count.

One of my coworkers at the youth shelter once told me they sometimes felt out of the loop because they worked the night shift like I do. This person wanted to make sure I don’t feel that way. While I do sometimes feel awkward around my coworkers, it’s no different than how I feel around people in general. No one at the youth shelter has ever made me feel like I didn’t belong or neglected to include me.

It’s the little things that count.

When my coworkers ask how I’m doing, it’s not in the American way of making small talk. They are genuinely interested. Though I often only see them at the first and last hour of my shift, the conversations we do have aren’t superficial. I don’t always agree with them on some issues, but I still keep an open mind and try to see things from their perspective.

It’s the little things that count.

I wrote a post on Facebook a little over a week ago explaining why I don’t like what the social media platform represents. I expounded on my desire to spend less time there and more time writing, hiking, and returning to the real world. I expressed how Facebook was bad for my mental health.

I was surprised a the number of people who agreed with me. I was touched by their concern for my well-being and their encouragement to do what was best for me. I ended up having several fruitful discussions. By voicing my frustration, other’s felt comfortable approaching me, even if it was in private, to discuss their dissatisfaction as well.

It’s the little things that count.

At 2:17 a.m., Saturday morning, I opened the door to my work locker to get a piece of gum. There was a card inside. My two bosses wrote nice things about how they appreciate the things I do. I started to cry.

It’s not the first time they’ve said such things, either in person or through a card. I’ve never had a job before where this happens on a regular basis. It made me feel like I belong here. The reminder, after two particularly hard weeks, was well-received.

It’s the little things that count.

Over the past couple of months, my friends have gifted me farina, which is my favorite breakfast food, some awesome Star Wars socks, and a Box of Confidence. I cried when I received each one of them.

It’s the little things that count.

Whether it’s friends or coworkers, no one has told me to just get over my mental health issues. They’ve been supportive. They don’t put me down or make fun of me. They’ve never made me feel like an incompetent human being, even though I sometimes feel that way myself.

It’s the little things that count.

The gift card in the picture above was also included in the card I received in my locker. Even after I spend the money on the card, I’m keeping it. After all, a sloth with a boom box is awesome. It will go in my home office for the days when I’m struggling with emotional dysregulation to remember it’s the little things that count.

When I think about the things I’ve had to overcome and the recent, positive progress I’ve made, it’s always the little things that help me get through it all.


A rant, in pictures


My blood is ink

1 Comment

  1. Jina Red Nest

    Ahhh, another good one keep it up

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