Life is good.
Life is stressful, hectic, trying, crazy and often times tear and anxiety-driven, but it is good. You ever just have one of those moments that you're doing something and it's so stressful you think that you may in fact snap, but then a little breeze blows or you look up and just see something completely random and even though you're completely on edge and contemplating kicking someone in the throat, you realize that you're still happy?
And not even just complacent happy, but actually happy? You know shuffling around in your head that there's still things that you want, or people that you wish could be there, but for the most part you are in fact happy. All of the sudden you're just at peace. And I know it feels contradictive to say- "I'm completely stressed" and then in the same sentence say- "I'm at peace." I get it, I'm no philosopher.
What I am though, is completely me.
I say what I feel, I look how I'm comfortable, and I act for myself. I live my life for my peace of mind and I surround myself with as much love and affection as I possibly can. I feel this great need to care for people and I'm not the least bit sorry for it.
People tend to think that you as a person should live your life a certain way. They think there are certain "guidelines" for which you should prioritize your life. It's usually very simple: go through school, get a good job, get married, have kids, do what society tells you is the correct and proper way to go about things. And do you know what I have to say about that and to those people?
Bless your heart.
Who is someone to tell you how to live your life and how your happiness should be rated? I say to hell with that. I live a somewhat unconventional life. Not to me, but according to other peoples standards. I'm twenty-five years old. I'm unmarried (I have never had the desire to be married and don't feel like people have to be to share their lives with one another), I have no children (nor do I want them, I think motherhood is an amazing thing, but not for everyone), I don't own my own home (renting is not a giant issue with me like it is a lot of people), my car is not brand new (but it's a going little thing), my mother and I live together (and I wouldn't have it any other way), and the man that's been "warming my bed" and giving me cuddles has been with me for ten years and is my puppy dog- Tayder (he's the best ever and he'll make sure to tell you that).
By societal standards, that makes me practically an old-maid, spinster or depending on who you ask- a pariah. People wonder why I make the choices that I do or have in the past and think it's unnatural that I'm so content with my decisions. The truth? Because I'm happy. The way I look at it, why spend your life doing things that make you feel horrible? Don't get me wrong, we all have to do things that we don't want to do at times, and I'm not saying that marriage and kids is bad, it's perfectly grand..... if that's what you want.
I'm not trying to get all heavy and go on a ramble about my life views, I just wanted to reveal my revelation. The past couple of weeks have been hectic, stressful and draining. I'm physically, emotionally and psychologically tired. By Thursday evening I thought very well that my forearms were going to fall off, I would never be able to stand up straight again, our house would never be in order for as long as I live and I wanted to just sit in a corner and cry. That's how tired I am.
But then I took a shower and when I got out I had a message from PB. I sat down to answer him and while I was waiting for his reply the breeze came through our open living room window and I started looking around. And sure there are boxes stacked to the hilt, and every piece of furniture that we own is in disarray. But, I noticed that Tayder was just laying there next to me so I could rub his belly like I have for so long, Momma was at the kitchen table on her computer humming to herself like she unrealizingly does, Greg was in his room doing his thing, my fan was going a mile a minute and the moon was as bright as it could be peeking through the curtains. The air out is crisp and cool and the wind is sharp (I know, because my cheeks and lips are officially windburned). There's just a calm, in the air and in myself.
While my anxiety is always at a 12.7 on a scale of 1-10, as I sat there on the floor looking around, in a pair of pajama pants and an old tshirt, with a towel on my head, no makeup, listening to the random sounds of my life, talking to one of my very best friends, I got it. I'm happy. Do I wish that things were easier sometimes? Yes. Are there things that I would change? Sure. Are there people that are not with me that I wish could be? Absolutely. But life isn't meant to be easy, it's just supposed to be ours. And mine? Well, mine isn't bad. Not bad at all.