I find myself struggling more and more lately with who I am. I'm not sure when I conditioned myself to think I'd have all the answers by 30. I'm not even sure I have the right questions yet. At what point do we begin to adapt and accept the daily notions? I can't even pinpoint what my point is at the moment. I think I'm just lost. I didn't even realize until now that I was...
Someone asked me the other day if I was happy - to recall a time when I was the happiest I've ever been. I hesitated to answer. That hesitation spoke volumes. There are moments that fill my heart with joy: my daughter's birth, my first apartment, my best friend's wedding, my college graduation. But in that instant none of those moments seemed to be right. Does a moments joy equate true happiness? is it a series of happy times strung together. Or is that just an ideal that may never come to fruition?
Don't misunderstand me, I don't think I'm an unhappy person. I can be quite spunky and loud, excited and animated - I'll embarrass you with my random skipping and character voices. But at the end of the day, is it just me I'm trying to convince?
I built a pretty good life for myself and surround myself with awesome people, so I'm very blessed and grateful. But sometimes when I'm sitting home alone at night, I have to wonder... until I let my own thoughts consume me. To the point when I just feel selfish for even wanting something else, something more. For wanting anything really.
What defines happiness? Who decided the road map with all the stops you're supposed to make? And why am I the odd one out because I chose the path buried deep in the woods? Who's to say which actions are the right ones and whether or not we should be acting on them?
I live my life the way I want and my choices are my own. I wear my mistakes like battle scars because they remind me. No, they aren't always pretty, but they are my scars to own. I guess I just want to know to what end is it all for. I have no clue what will make me happy, so I'll continue to fumble my way by, dealing with the hurdles as they come. I guess sometimes it's just very lonely, but I imagine even the happiest people in the world are still lonely.
Someone asked me the other day if I was happy - to recall a time when I was the happiest I've ever been. I hesitated to answer. That hesitation spoke volumes. There are moments that fill my heart with joy: my daughter's birth, my first apartment, my best friend's wedding, my college graduation. But in that instant none of those moments seemed to be right. Does a moments joy equate true happiness? is it a series of happy times strung together. Or is that just an ideal that may never come to fruition?
Don't misunderstand me, I don't think I'm an unhappy person. I can be quite spunky and loud, excited and animated - I'll embarrass you with my random skipping and character voices. But at the end of the day, is it just me I'm trying to convince?
I built a pretty good life for myself and surround myself with awesome people, so I'm very blessed and grateful. But sometimes when I'm sitting home alone at night, I have to wonder... until I let my own thoughts consume me. To the point when I just feel selfish for even wanting something else, something more. For wanting anything really.
What defines happiness? Who decided the road map with all the stops you're supposed to make? And why am I the odd one out because I chose the path buried deep in the woods? Who's to say which actions are the right ones and whether or not we should be acting on them?
I live my life the way I want and my choices are my own. I wear my mistakes like battle scars because they remind me. No, they aren't always pretty, but they are my scars to own. I guess I just want to know to what end is it all for. I have no clue what will make me happy, so I'll continue to fumble my way by, dealing with the hurdles as they come. I guess sometimes it's just very lonely, but I imagine even the happiest people in the world are still lonely.
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