We're all a bunch of chronic complainers - let's face it. Pyschodrama Nation continues to thrive. It's so bad, Wal-Mart can't even have a moderately busy Friday without a lot of people wringing their hands.

So stop for a moment and read this, from the blog Dove's Eye View:

I started chemotherapy almost three weeks ago. The first two weeks weren't so terrible - I rested and babied myself, functioned pretty well. Then last week my hair fell out. I had beautiful hair, always have, and believed that my hair was my power. Anticipating its loss made me weep. But now that it is gone, I can see that I am still myself. My children still love me. My husband doesn't flinch or turn away from me, despite my grizzled scalp.

It's worth reading the whole thing. It's worth noting there's not a word of self-pity there - only a sense of self-confidence and optimism. Good. If there's no complaining in that well-written passage, we might want to re-evaluate our own gripes.