It was a Sunday afternoon in West Hartford, CT. Partly sunny and in the mid-fifties, which was quite welcome as March in CT can still be rather cold depending on our crazy New England weather patterns. It was also roughly a week after I’d had the sides of my face tattooed with a mirror image of a dagger and rose done in a sideburn style pattern. For the purposes of this piece, it’s also worth mentioning that about a month prior to that, I had both sides of my head tattooed. Again, they were mirror images, but this time, of a mandala, inspired by some conversations my tattoo artist and I had.

So back to said Sunday. It started out chill. My fiancé and I woke up, had some coffee, watched the news because the Mueller Report had finally been submitted the prior night and then got ready for lunch with a couple she was dear friends with but I was yet to meet. Now, I’m an introvert, so things like this can be tough for me, but it’s something I’ve been consciously working on and was exceptionally grateful for that fact within two-minutes to meeting this couple. They were fun, light-hearted, and while my fiancé and her friend began catching up on life, I found myself immediately engulfed in a full-on nerd out about horror movies with her friends’ husband. And I’m not talking about current, whatever’s trendy kind of horror, but rather, old-school, abstract, foreign, remakes, and long since forgotten horror gems. Any and everything from the original Suspiria to Pontypol, Michael Myers and the Halloween series (and agreeing how Rob Zombie didn’t quite fuck it up as bad as most people say) to current gems like Hereditary, The Witch, and Us. Yeah, it was an immediate bromance.

That, however, is not the point of this article, neither is this next part, but it’s essential for premise building. So post-lunch, my fiancé and I got in her car and she mentioned how she wanted to either stop at a store and go somewhere to walk as she was feeling heavy after lunch. I got that. I too share in the post-meal heaviness and lethargy feeling, but on this particular afternoon, I just felt like going home and playing guitar. The minor difference in what each of us wanted to do could have been easily compromised on, but every now and then, my fiancé and I get stubborn, don’t communicate as effectively with one another as we could, and end up in a disagreement that’s escalated beyond where it needs to have gone. This was one of those experiences. Add to this fact that I’m incredibly sensitive, like annoyingly emo sensitive, and it’s a recipe for a shitty afternoon and/or evening. And that’s where we were at when we got home.

My fiancé laid down on the couch in the living room as I went into the bedroom to take some deep breaths. By the time I came out and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk, she was already resting on the couch and beyond the point of wanting to get up and go back out. She wasn’t moping, she was just comfortable. I felt bad about not just saying yes to going somewhere with her after lunch and thus, was experiencing some anxiety, so decided to go for a walk by myself.

It was still light out and while the temps were beginning to drop, it was still pleasant enough, so I took my emo-tastic ass out into the world to get some air. The frown on my face and heaviness of my mood—one in which even the most minor empath would have been weighed heavily down by—was enough to keep any passersby on the sidewalk to quickly look away. And being the aforementioned introvert that I am, and as heavily tattooed as I am, this was completely fine by me.

I didn’t head out with any particular destination in mind. I just needed to walk. About fifteen minutes later I found myself at the local coffee shop because, you know, coffee makes everything better. I ordered my Americano and stepped to the left of the counter to wait while they made my drink. As I stood there, I couldn’t help but overhear a little boy, roughly five or six, telling his mom how neat my “headstamps” were. I was still feeling crummy so played it off as though it didn’t hear him at first, but as he continued on to his mother about the beauty of my headstamps, my somber mood couldn’t help but begin to shift. I looked to my left at the boy, a cute little fella wearing a rad blue T-Rex sweater and leaned down to ask him his name. “Matthew,” he replied, followed by, “your headstamps are really beautiful.”

At that moment my heart totally melted and all of the unpleasant emotions I’d been dragging around with me were completely gone. I responded by saying, “Well hello, Matthew. My name is Chris and I’m really glad you like my headstamps.” He replied, “Oh yeah, a lot.” His mother then introduced herself to me and we shook hands. It was at that point my coffee was ready so I wished them both a nice rest of their day and on my way, I went.

It seems like such a little thing, a young boy expressing intrigue and appreciation for head tattoos, but I took it as a full-on reminder that there are good things all around if I’m just willing to pull my head out of my ass and look—or as in this case, be willing to allow. Earlier in the day, during the disagreement between my fiancé and I as we were driving home, she said, “We could die tomorrow. It’s important to be happy today.” And she was entirely right. That’s not some full-on epiphany-eque truth I didn’t already know, but it’s one, if I’m being honest, I can go through phases in which I completely overlook. Yeah, this coming from the guy who’s written at length in all three of his books about the importance of cultivating more gratitude in our lives. Well, I suppose there’s truth to that saying that we often write, or speak, or whatever, that which we most need to learn ourselves.

Let me be clear though, I’m not some morose figure on a daily basis by any means. I typically enjoy life, however, aside from being sensitive, I still struggle with depression, anxiety, and all sorts of other shitty feelings life has a nifty habit of handing us (even with a daily meditation practice, seeing a therapist, exercising regularly, eating healthy, and all the other shit “the professionals” suggest we do in order to feel better). To be completely transparent, I’m picking this article back up in the midst of a panic attack come down. I still feel all of the ugliness, but it’s lessening, which allows me to type.

So here it is, in all of my semi-anxiety written glory, joy: honest to goodness joy—like the aforementioned experience with the youngster at the coffee shop, or whatever other form it may take—is the shit that in times like I’m experiencing now, gets me through. I feel almost like a charlatan writing this, cause what perfect timing for a panic attack to happen to finish said article, but this is what it is. It’s three days since I worked on this piece and three days since I’ve had a panic attack and here we are, reading, agreeing, disagreeing, nodding in approval or in disapproval. Regardless, here we all are.

And in all of my sincerity, I hope you find whatever joy it is you may feel you’re missing.

*QUICK PRACTICE IF YOU’RE STRUGGLING: Play the gratitude alphabet game. Legit, go through every single letter of the alphabet and think of something you’re grateful for that starts with that letter. It’s that easy. Don’t believe me, here are some examples:

A: Air

B: Beastie Boys

C: Clean Water

D: …….And every letter thereafter, you decide my friends. Find joy. It’s worth it!

And on and on and on. Have fun with this and use it often!