A year and a half ago, someone asked me if I was happy. My answer was, "yes, I've never been happier." And I meant it when I said it. I had everything I wanted. But, only a few months later, all of that changed. I thought I would never be happy again. In fact, I wasn't even sure I ever had been happy. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I never was. But, the illusion of happiness had been enough for me. I was annoyed that so many people said, "I never thought you were happy," because if I thought I was that should have been enough. Even if I wasn't, I thought I was. And that's what is so great about ignorance. It's "bliss," as they say. I have a much clearer head now, though. We all know I'm in a different place. And most of you have been through the journey with me, whether you've been following along online, or if you've seen the transformation with your own eyes.
Up until as recently as a month and a half ago, I was convinced I hadn't made any progress; in my life, in my thoughts, in my actions. I was told by several people that that just wasn't the case. I'd made a ton of progress and it was pretty ridiculous for me not to see it. It was the holidays, though. They were tough this time around. The first ones without my stepdad. And his absence was noticed. There was one less gift to buy, the pile under the Christmas tree was a little bit smaller - actually, there was no Christmas tree. Things were different this year. But, we survived. As a family, we made it through. And that's been the theme of my life for a while now - survival. For a year, I was treading water. Not going anywhere, barely keeping my head above water and getting progressively more tired. There were times I was certain I would sink before I finally began to swim. I don't even remember much of the journey. I just know there were a lot of tears, a lot of fights, way too much anger to measure and one emotional breakdown after another. And then, finally, the clouds cleared and the sun came out. But, even the sunshine isn't all good. Things are never "perfect." They're never the way we want them to be. It's never "ideal." Life is what it is and we have to constantly adjust, constantly learn something. Sometimes that means changing our way of thinking.
A month ago, I moved into my first apartment. I'd had an apartment in college, but I had three roommates and the rent was paid by my parents along with my tuition. I was hardly "on my own." After that, I moved back with my parents, then moved right into a house with my now ex-husband and then back with my parents. I'd never had my own space. I'd never had something that was just mine. It always belonged to someone else, or was shared with someone else. I never got to make decisions that only effected myself. I never had the opportunity to come and go as I please. There was always someone to check in with, someone else to look out for, someone to share my space with. I can't even remember how many times I said I just wanted to run away. I had nearly daily fantasies about running off to a cabin in the woods all by myself with a fire and a good book. The thought alone was my happy place. The urge to run was stronger every day. And while I never got to go to that cabin in the woods, I finally did get to be alone. I thought I'd be lonely living by myself. I thought I'd last a few weeks before I was begging my boyfriend to move in with me. Sure, I was excited about the idea of having the TV to myself and getting to read in peace and keeping the heat at the temperature I wanted. But, I thought there was nothing sadder than coming home to an empty apartment. I could not have been more wrong. This is, by far, the happiest I have ever been. I don't feel crazy, I don't feel stressed, I don't feel like I'm trying to fit in somewhere I don't belong. I never felt right, or normal. I always felt like there was something off about me. I always felt like I was the one that was just different than everybody else. I eventually just accepted that fate and dealt with the fact that I just was never going to have that many friends. I was never going to find that group of people, or that one person that just got it. But, that's because I didn't really know who I was. I had spent so much time living for someone else, making decisions for a ton of other people and none for myself. And once I stopped that cycle, it was liberating. I have this inner peace now that I never knew I was missing.
I was always so driven by the doubts of everyone else. I'm certain I got married because no one believed it would last (I had to prove them wrong). I bought a house, because no one believed I could handle it. My desire to become an editor was solidified the very first time I was told I didn't have what it takes. And while it still feels good to prove other people wrong, it feels better to prove myself right. Okay, so everyone was right - the marriage didn't last. It sucks and it took me a really long time to be able to say that I'm over it. It took so much out of me to evaluate what I did wrong and why I made certain choices, but it didn't work and we're moving on. The second someone said "I doubt it" to my prediction that I'd have a house before that year was over, I knew I had to make it happen. How dare you doubt me. And of course, I made it happen. And that particular house was bought because it was the only one the two of us agreed on. I regretted it pretty quickly. And now it's in foreclosure, which before would have thrown me into a blind panic, complete with hyperventilation and several acts of desperation. And now? I couldn't care less. I have my apartment. I have a roof over my head, I have clothes on my back and I have food in my fridge. Who cares that that roof is rented? Who cares that it's less than 600 square feet. Who cares that I have to walk up three flights of stairs? It's fine and I freaking love it! My own space...finally. Decorated how I want, filled with things I love, food I like and my favorite show on the television.
As soon as I stopped living for everyone else, I started to really live. I began to realize that it doesn't matter if other people agree with me. It doesn't matter what someone else thinks of my decisions. It matters what I think. I'm the one that has to live with the decisions. As soon as I set my own priorities instead of listening to my mom's, or society's, or friends', I began to feel happy. Inwardly happy. I don't feel that panic that I'm making the wrong choices. I don't feel anxiety about how I'm going to handle something in the future. I don't feel depressed that I'm not where I'm "supposed to" be. And I don't feel angry at all the people that don't understand me, or don't accept me, or don't believe in me. Because I believe in me. It's been so long since I've been able to see so clearly what I want. The dreams haven't changed. They've just shifted. I always wanted a career as an editor and a family. And I told myself before that I gave up one dream for another. I gave up the dream of becoming an editor so I could have a family. But, why should I choose? Why can't I have both? I can. And I will. And no one has to believe that but me.
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