I don’t remember what it was that made me stop and think about the tendency of my thinking. But I remember how I felt when I had the epiphany that I had become, of all things, a hater. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the things I hated far outnumbered the things I loved.  

Instead of saying that I loved the night, the moon and the stars, the placid silence, the comfort of solitude, and how some flowers smell better in the evening – I complained that I was not a morning person.  

I said I detested morning breath instead of saying that I loved running my tongue over my teeth after I had just brushed them. I moaned about hot weather more than the relief I found in the shade. So many pet peeves, so many inconsequential things marred my happiness.

I despised people who were quick to judge others. I was intolerant of intolerance. Unkind people irked me. I hated it when a friend came to me to speak ill of another friend. Why choose me? I did not want to be complicit in such duplicity. But I let it happen because I knew from experience that calling out problematic behaviour, especially with the people you know, serves no purpose other than souring your relationship. So, most of the times, I tried to simply extricate myself from the situation without engaging. But I fumed. I fumed about my powerlessness. And I hated the fact that despite loving them, I couldn’t like some people in my life.  

I used to joke about not knowing what I want in life but being sure about what I didn’t want. But I noticed too late that I kept adding to one list while ignoring the important one.

Now, I am trying to unlearn this rigid worldview as I grow. I am choosing gratitude for the good things in my life and not frustration at the things out of my control.