• Sleep is a privilege, not a right. (At the beginning of each school year we used to get a pamphlet about school bus rules and it always said that riding the school bus was a privilege, not a right. I found that an odd thing to say, but now I repeat it every chance I get.) And the more you want sleep, the more it eludes you. And when you get it back, it becomes the most beautiful blessing of your life, one you cannot believe you have taken for granted for 26 years.




• It is possible, even with a supportive family, caring friends, a loving husband, and a cat who insists on spending every minute on your lap, to feel isolated.




• There is something about sunshine that suggests nothing bad can happen in the world. Ellen has the same effect.




• The obsessive attempt to diagnose one's symptoms online is itself a disease. Such search sessions not only result in anxiety, but also lead to the awareness of new symptoms that may or may not actually exist. But, even if one's husband forbids the activity for the sake of one's mental health, there will be irresistible opportunities to sneak it in.




• One of my particular talents is to assume the absolute very worst possible scenario without any evidence to support it whatsoever. This I knew already. What I didn't realize is that such a perspective can be nearly as destructive as the thing you fear.




• Months like this are actually esssential to happiness. To be truly happy is to appreciate the fact that you are happy - to be, if you will, meta-happy - and that's only possible if you realize that, like sleep and the school bus, happiness is a privilege. Any threats (real, potential, or imagined) to one's happiness serve as reminders to revel in life, to hug people close, to celebrate the beginning of a new month.

"When you're not dealing with health issues and not feeling terrified every day, you don't appreciate how lucky you are."