The weather update on the morning news today read “East Coast Misery.” Wow. I guess I didn’t realize just how distressed I should be on this glistening December morning just two weeks away from Christmas. 

It’s true that we’re enduring a sleet/rain/snow storm that has left many of us without power and negotiating treacherous roads on our commutes to work. I’m sure that the weather has caused more than a few complications in New England lives this morning. But misery?

The headline made me think how easy it is to let one negative thought, worry, or aggravation become the focal point of an otherwise nice day. It’s an act of self-sabotage, really. Everything is going smoothly until that critical moment when we realize that there is or MAY BE a glitch – whether it’s a traffic jam, a runny nose, or a child with a runny nose. We often ruin our own day by focusing on the one thing that’s not going quite right instead of celebrating the hundreds of little details that are humming along just perfectly.

Since becoming a parent, I find that my biggest source of personal “misery” comes from an exceptional facility that I have for “awful-izing” (a term coined by psychologist, Joan Borysenko). I let one negative thought or fear take over my mind and body so completely that I can barely function. 

The other night, for example, I was suddenly filled with deep pangs of garbage-can remorse. As I was lying in bed, I realized that I really should have been keeping the ABC practice sheets that my son has been bringing home all year from kindergarten, instead of dumping them discreetly in the trash. What kind of mother am I? What will I say one-day when he asks me, “Mom, where are all of my ABC practice sheets?” After all, he only learns how to write his letters once. How could I have had such little foresight?

The thoughts mounted, and my heart raced. At midnight, I jumped out of bed and went scurrying about the house trying to find any scrap of paper my son may have scribbled on to place in my new official “saving everything” folder. 

I was starring in my own episode of “Midnight Misery.” I would have been better off just going to sleep. The folder could have been initiated the following morning without me wasting two hours beating myself up over a few silly mistakes. And in hindsight, I’m a pretty good mom. I kept every single “I love you” card he ever made.

So today, as I look out my window at the tree branches encapsulated in a layer of shimmery ice, I choose to see beauty instead of a nuisance. After all, my house is warm and dry, my husband arrived safely at work, and my two children are healthy and happy downstairs eating piping hot pancakes. Misery on the east coast? None here, I’m happy to report.