L. Raine 2.jpg

hi you,

I'm the tourist on the metro, lover of markets and dresses, a writer in the local coffee shop, and the friend who is always up for a picnic and conversation. 

More recently, making the journey through loneliness to write a book.

Welcome to L. Raine

When all You Want to Do is Lie on the Couch

When all You Want to Do is Lie on the Couch

Hi you, 

This past week has beaten me up good. Between one thing or another my feeling on this rainy Monday morning is that dreamers are fools, and I am the biggest one. How could I ever have the audacity to think I can write? What is in my head or experience that anyone else could possibly want to know? 

Lest you fear this is turning into a huge pity-party that you didn't want an invitation to, it's not. But this morning as I was thinking about this Monday column I realized that there is a whole world of people out there who know exactly what it feels like when all you want to do is lie on the couch. Or whatever it is for you that requires no effort, no thinking, and most particularly, no gumption. 


Here's the shocker: there's nothing exceedingly wise to say to someone experiencing the dumps of life other than, "just keep swimming." That's it. Keep going. Keep your head up. Walk until you're out of it. Every human being will experience times in their life when it seems to take herculean effort just to make sure the dishes get washed, bills paid, and the car serviced. 

Because life happens. 

Just because we are weak at times does not mean we have a weakness. Perhaps you have been trying really, really hard for a long time. Maybe work has taken its toll, family problems have worn you down, health has been dull, or a relationship knotty. 

We look for quick fixes

We feel sure that if we work hard enough, think enough positive thoughts, or just pep talk ourselves everything will be right as rain again. Maybe you'll buy something new to pick up your spirits, or go for a new experience. These things have some value but they can also quickly turn into an unhealthy sort of comfort. 

When I hit these times there's only two pieces of advice that really do me any kind of good. 

  1. Keep going. Walk. Head up, chin up. Just keep swimming. 
  2. Find as much gratitude as you can. 

If this is you on this Monday morning (or for the past weeks or months) I want to tell you first that, I'm here too, and I'm not just saying that trying to scrape up solidarity. I have the unpleasant experience of being there right now. Second. It's so simple, and we both need non-complicated things right now. Analyzing can happen later; for right now it's just this. 

Walk on, and be grateful. 

Grateful for the chance to breathe. Grateful for the sound of rain on a tin roof. Grateful for the chance to dance. Grateful for a dollop of cream on coffee this morning. Grateful that love works. Grateful for a fantastic work environment. Grateful for the chance to write. 

And here’s to the fools who dream
Crazy as they may seem
Here’s to the hearts that break
Here’s to the mess we make
— La La Land

Guess I'll just keep on being the crazy fool who dreams. Who's with me? 

L. Raine


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