I love dark chocolate. I love the dark chocolate with sea salt, with salted caramel, with almonds. 72% cacao or 54%. I don't discriminate. I really don't at all. Dark chocolate feels like a gift from the heavens, like warmth and joy. Literally like having a happy little Belgian chocolatier hanging out in my body, hugging my soul. When it's been a tough day, I close my eyes, and dark chocolate is always the solution. Always.
The problem is that nowadays the dark chocolate is just so accessible. I have it in my pantry, the console of my car, my nightstand (yes, I really am that girl). I have very limited self-control with the dark chocolate. I can pound it down without even knowing I've gone through it. And in that moment, I think lose sight of just how special it is. It becomes something I do just in passing instead of something I cherish. The happy little Belgian goes missing, and dark chocolate has lost its luster.
Excess sometimes ruins the balance. And the balance, I think, is the most important thing to creating joy. This is something I want to remember in every part of my life.
There was a time when the only thing I could focus on was survival. Would chemo be worse this time? Would I be strong enough to walk to the bathroom? Would the test results be better? In those moments, I savored such simple things - the comfort of my blankets, the touch of Donnie's warm little hand, the thrill of Clam Chowder Fridays at the hospital. I felt very lucky for so many little things, and most of all, so very, overwhelmingly lucky for the opportunity to breathe. That breath of mine, what a gift.
Fast forward two years stronger, I walk through my days alongside everyone else. I fight for a parking spot at my son's school. I zone out during conference calls. I check the expiration of the eggs. There is so much white noise, that most days now I actually forget to feel lucky. I scurry through the day in a hustle, trying to squeeze as much in as I can in twenty-four hours. I find myself sweating the small stuff. And just like that, I've forgotten how what a gift this breath of mine is. I've forgotten to cherish my dark chocolate.
I don't want to forget anymore. I don't want to lose myself in the chaos. I want to live with gratitude because yes, it's true - I am so miraculously lucky. I want to walk forward with kindness, love, and purpose. I work so hard to fix this broken body of mine. I owe it to myself, to the loves in my life to try to be my very best version.
For the purpose of this essay, I must admit that I am at this very moment consuming and indecent amount of dark chocolate. Readers, you'll be happy to know that the little Belgian chocolatier is back hugging my soul. Gratitude.
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