The Inventory of Joy
Gratitude is something that I’ve tried to make part of my daily habits. Admittedly, it was extremely difficult to find any form of gratitude when my life was at its lowest, but in the past five years, I’ve had so much experience finding gratitude and joy in the ordinary that it’s become a skill.
I believe in it so much that I have “gratitude” tattoo’d on my hand… so whenever I clasp my hands or put them up to my face in prayer, meditation, or in anguish, I remember to breathe and have gratitude.
Today, I was reminded of being grateful that I get to experience getting older. Sometimes I fret over my wrinkles… I get Botox in my face and slather a myriad of serums and creams on my face like a little anti-aging alchemist in my bathroom. I’m starting to see the wrinkles in my hands and the age spots blooming up. I used to love the smile lines on my face years ago… I thought they made me look wise, but now I’m starting to look at see my face isn’t as luminous as it once was, and worry starts to set in.
My social media algorithm has been showing me commercials of these fit bearded dudes, as they explain that “many people don’t realize I’m actually 55… It’s because I’ve been using XYZ product from blah blah blah..” Like, look here algorithm… I’m the tender age of 38. You can fuck all the way off with that shit.
Also, why are you sending me advertisements for men?!?!
It was kinda screwing with me for a bit, if I’m being honest. Turning 38 was a bit of a gut punch for me… but I have to practice gratitude with it.
It’s a privilege to get wrinkles and grow old. I’ve lost so many of my friends over the years to accidents, cancer, suicide, illness… they’re now forever that age. Like my friend Joey, who passed away from a very long battle with cancer in the summer of 2022. Joey was my boy… every time I opened my Instagram, my inbox would be flooded with the most random memes. He made me laugh damn near every day, and my life has been so much less funny without him in it…
Joey was my champion for this blog. He was with me every step of the way, encouraging me to keep going, helping me find my laugh again. Not the fake one we all do, but that impish cackle I once had. All while battling cancer. He spent so many years flip-flopping between being cancer-free and then having it ravage his body. In the end, it moved to his brain… but he was still SO POSITIVE to the very end. I think I only saw cracks in his demeanor on two occasions.
At his funeral, we got to record a private message to his daughters for them to listen to when they got older… I don’t remember exactly what I said, but just that their dad was amazing. Joey brought so much joy to everyone’s lives. Now we remember him forever, frozen in time.
About a year later, I had a dream about him. In it, he was a ghost that lingered around and played jokes (like a little “Mexican Casper”… Calm down, he would have thought the description was funny). Like all dreams, it was kind of clunky and made no sense… like Seinfeld, it had no plot. His wife, Shurrice, was in my dream too, and we all were aware that he was gone but lingering around our party, bebopping around like the goofball he was. But at one point in the dream, he looked at me with such sorrow in his eyes. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he felt guilty… like his hanging around was preventing Shurrice and all of us from moving on with our lives… that he wasn’t making us happy, but his presence is a constant reminder that he’s gone.
I woke up that morning feeling such heaviness in my soul. It lingered around me for days. It took me a week to find the courage to tell Shurrice about the dream because I was afraid it would hurt her, but she told me she believed he was visiting me and that the timing was no coincidence. It was around the anniversary of his death. He always visits her. That he’s always a part of us. And that made me believe that there’s something beyond this world, that love is the thread that keeps us still connected. That brought me so much comfort to think about, like a warm cup of coffee on a chilly day… just thinking about it makes my chest feel light and spreads to the roots of my hair and tips of my toes. It takes the weight off my chest… this existential dread that grips me tightly just thinking about not existing or seeing anyone I love ever again. And I pray I have a love in my lifetime like Joey and Shurrices… one that transcends space and time. I don’t know who or what I’m praying to, just that I pray… and I hope… and I dream.
I never dreamed of him since. And I don’t think that’s not because I don’t care and miss Joey, but I think he came to me and taught me what I needed to know: to just be happy. To be joyful and silly and continue to have a big heart. To not take life so damn seriously, because it’s so short… so I should love freely and take risks and be grateful for the stumbles, wrinkles, and gaffs. Not everyone gets to grow old… why spend it so miserably?
Back in 2021, I detailed how I was so low that I took two inventories: one of my possessions and who they should go to, and the other a list of reasons why I should live. You can read that old post here.
I like lists… or “listicles” as they call them. Maybe that’s why I used to doom scroll Buzzfeed in its prime and fall asleep to “WatchMojo” videos on YouTube (“Top 50 Serial Killers Within the Last Decade” or “Top 10 Cold Cases That Were Solved By Some Reddit Dorks”). I think it’s important to practice gratitude every day, but to also find joy in simple things. So every morning this past few days I’ve been writing out one thing I am grateful for, good things that happened that day, and things that bring me joy. My hope is to have an entire inventory of joy by the end of it… flip the script on life.
If I’ve learned one thing about 12 years in Search and Rescue, it’s that if you’re looking for something specific, you’re more likely to find it rather than just wandering through the woods looking for a “person.” Specifics matter… it trains your brain on what data to throw out and what to keep. So if you tell yourself to only look for bad things… things that confirm that the world sucks or that you’re unworthy of love… that’s all you’ll find. That will confirm your bias. But if you look for the good… you’ll see it all around you.
So here’s an example of my ever-growing inventory of joy:
A crispy Celsius in the morning.
Walking in the morning with no headphones. Just the sounds of the world.
That “Astros Themed” peanut brittle ice cream from H-E-B.
Fresh H-E-B tortillas.
Just H-E-B in general.
When my cat Rory sits on my chest and gives me a kitty bath to wake me up.
Rolling with my friend Simona and all the silly laughter we have.
Discovering a move or sequence in jiu-jitsu organically.
Whiskey nights with Jesse and Scott.
Sitting around talking shit with Abe.
Wrenching on my truck, or “Fix it Fridays” with my Cali friends.
My dog Donner not being an asshole.
Voice memos from Jessica and Amber.
A WOD that doesn’t have burpees or an assault bike in it.
That chocolate pistachio loaf from Starbucks.
GOAT CHEESE AND CASHEW DRESSING FROM SWEETGREEN.
Manhattans and old-fashioned’s
A bologna and cheese sandwich at the summit of a brutal hike.
Setting up camp like it’s my little home.
A cozy fireplace.
When I get into that flow state when I’m teaching or doing a speech in front of people, and I have that out-of-body experience where I just go.
Random hugs from Henry (my friend Ashley and Tanner’s little kid).
Playing video games with William.
Walking into jiu jitsu and seeing my friends happy faces.
An ice-cold Lychee Martini.
Playing Fallout on a drizzly cold day.
Hitting a nice line on my dirt bike.
Showing up on a search and getting paired with my friends from other divisions.
Solving a case and bringing someone closure.
Whatever weighted blanket Amy and Shawn have at their house… I’m going to steal that thing…
My grandma calling me Chickadee (which my Aunt Denise also calls me).
My mom’s cooking… especially chicken noodle soup.
The family dinners we used to have at Glorias.
My brother Tim and I doing overlanding with each other.
Houston Dash soccer nights where we actually win.
The list goes on and on and on… I’m going to make it the biggest inventory ever. But the biggest takeaway from all of this is that not everyone is lucky enough to grow old… so let’s just be fucking happy, joyful, and messy. Let’s stop wasting time pretending we’re perfect, or that shit doesn’t bother us, move us, elate us… just be a fucking human while you still can.
