Last month, in the middle of hurt and frustration and desperation, I wrote about my backup plans. You all were incredibly supportive (thank you).

Many people, though, perceived my backup plans as a bad thing. I get it. To know where you’d go, what you’d do, how you’d start over if your marriage ended is certainly not a fun thing to talk about (or think about).

But I found that having a backup plan soothed me and reminded me that being married is an active choice.

There is a bright side to thinking about a backup plan: I know I’d rather be here, even while fighting and feuding and frustrating. Really. The relief I felt once I put my backup plan together wasn’t about how much I wanted to be free of my marriage, but rather how free I felt when I remembered I had a choice. I could stay and fight or I could leave and fight, but I was not out of options.

I’m never out of options.

Every morning, I wake up and choose to live this life in this house in this city and this job with this man and these darned animals. If I didn’t want to, I could do something different. I could decide to sell the house, move to another city, have more or fewer animals or leave my husband. I could change my priorities, my outlook, or my goals, all of which would change my path. I may whine about living in this city or working from home or how somecat is harassing somedog incessantly, but let’s not forget that I’m the adult (human) in this situation and I have choices.

I may wish for perfection, but I live in the reality of my choosing.

Now, before someone points this out, you can’t choose to be healthy if you’re not, and being lucky enough to be healthy, I don’t want to deign to talk about choices, but you can certainly find stories of strong people making active choices even while aching.

No, you can’t conjure a better job, better mate, or better life. But if you decide you want a better job, it’s clear what you need to do next, right? Brush up your resume, apply, apply, apply, reach out to your networks. I’m not saying anything’s easy, only that choices exist.

Okay, enough soapbox. Back to narcissism, ironically the best way to keep the snarky comments at bay.

After a really shitty August, I chose a better perspective in September, and it has been a rousing success. My marriage is better, my work is better, my house is cleaner. Rather than dwell on the angst, I picked out the best parts of my life and focused on those. I have a great life, am doing my best to be a great wife, love a fantastically human man, and am surrounded by animals and woodsy life that force me to live the way I should.

One of our dogs started pooping in the house. The aptly nicknamed Mr. Poopinsky would come in from the backyard and leave a little turd in the living room. ARGH. After a week of this, I remembered, hey, I’m the human, the one with opposable thumbs to open the front door and the treat jar and the ability to read that book on training! Also, hi, I’m the empathetic and patient one most likely to have success being the trainer! (Well, except for Frank the cat who has been wildly successful at teaching humans to give him milk when near the fridge and make room on their laps for him to sleep.)

So every morning and every afternoon, I take each dog out to the wooded side yard to do their business, and when they do, they get a treat. And WOW, I’d completely forgotten how fabulous our side yard can be. Just steps from the house (like, three), it’s quiet and calm and shaded and cool, except for the frantic buzzing of bugs and rustling of leaves and sparkling sunlight on the dewy grass. I am, quite literally, a homebody, and if I didn’t have to take the dogs out one at a time to make sure they don’t leave me stinky gifts, I’d never have gone out there.

That’s the bright side and you can find one in anything if you just try. I had a backup plan that helped me realize I didn’t want to use it. Knowing I didn’t want to use it reminded me that I choose to stay here with this man and be the best wife I can. Thinking about living in a city again made me sad to lose the daily chance to take a twenty step stroll into the woods. Those woods are where I want my kids to explore, finding bugs and learning to avoid poison ivy and conjuring fantastic and imaginative games. Seeing how much I love about my life forced me to see the choice I’d been making to focus on the bad rather than revel in the good. All of that led me to a commitment to look at the bright side for an entire month, and after one month I can say that my life is profoundly better.

One. Month.

It didn’t cost me a dime and I didn’t need anyone’s agreement to try. In removing myself from the negativity spiral, my husband faced his part in it and committed to improving his outlook as well. Those conversations strengthened our ability to converse, and our willingness to find the bright side in the uncomfortable allowed us to be way too broke in order to pay off things way more quickly. Almost two months more quickly than planned, in fact, and with a freaking smile.

Oh, and I learned a few things:

- Protecting myself from disappointment is impossible, so hope is the way to go. I must remember to hope.

- To disperse anger requires action or distraction; being happy takes either. Trust requires inaction. Gratitude requires action.

- Looking at, talking about, celebrating goodness is not bragging. It’s smart.

- Compromising is slow and unsatisfying, but necessary.

- Gross confessions are fun.

- Words matter.

Thanks for joining me, actively or passively, this month. Thanks for rooting me on and showing me how and trying it yourself. I feel connected in a way I’d always wanted but never managed, so thank you.