I sat down to write this week’s article and the first thought in my head when I couldn’t think of anything to write about was, “What can I complain about this week?” If you’ve read my articles at all, you know it's usually my go-to: weekly grievances. Typically, the more pissed I am, the better I articulate my point, the more shares my article gets, the more I pat myself on the back at the end of the day. But this week I couldn’t think of anything that mattered to complain about and maybe, hopefully, that’s a really positive thing.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am a strong believer that there is a place for negativity in this world. I do not buy into all that “just be positive and positivity will come your way,” kind of thing. I think sometimes it’s actually super necessary and productive to be negative, but it’s also super necessary and productive to take a giant step back and look at the bigger picture.

Three weeks ago my house flooded due to a hurricane. We got home from evacuating our little town, opened the doors, and everything was wet and the smell of mildew entangled us. My husband went around the house, inspecting all the damage, while I stood in the living room, staring at my wet rug, in shock. I called my mom, crying, saying over and over again, “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to start.” She quoted one of my old teachers.

“How do you eat an elephant?” She said

“Everything is ruined.” I wasn’t listening.

“One bite at a time.”

So that’s what we did. We took everything out of the house, one bite at a time. We scrubbed every room from the top down, one bite at a time. We threw out furniture and shoes and pictures, one bite at a time.

Since that day I’ve found it increasingly difficult to find something to complain about. Yes, here and there, I whine and fuss about my day, but when I take a giant step back and look at that whole elephant, I know I can finish if I approach it right. I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically, from this month. School started again full-force, I barely have time to process my day each night, but everything is still so sweet.

Yesterday I was biking to a local bar to meet my husband for a drink after work, before dinner. It was a cool 60 degrees, the sun was setting, the wind was blowing on my face. I couldn’t help thinking about standing in my living room, staring at my wet rug, thinking the world may have actually ended. I couldn’t help thinking, if I could have, in that

moment, I would have taken a giant step back. I would have seen myself, a mere three weeks later, biking across town, smiling like a fool, on my way to meet my sweet husband for a glass of wine before returning home (a home with new furniture and rugs) to have dinner and go to bed.