I sit before the glowing computer monitor. Ensconced in a fuzzy red robe, I’m comfortable and warm – quite nearly happy. Thanksgiving has just passed; the dishes have been washed and put away and the turkey looks a wee bit like something from a Body Worlds exhibit. The short pause between Thanksgiving and Christmas is like a breath snatched just as you think you’re going to drown.
Since the end of the year is coming, it brings my birthday and the usual existential bits that usually come with it. What am I doing that is worthwhile? Why am I doing what I do? How can I make my life better, or at least keep it on an even keel? Moments with these sorts of musings make me think of what I expected my life to be like.
No one really thinks that they’ll be a reputable member of society that is fairly successful at a somewhat menial job and attempts to follow their dreams with a mix of trepidation and fleeting joy. However, there’s nothing really wrong with that if it’s what you’re happy with.
Given what I want out of life, my aims are different than most folks’ are. I just need to remember what makes me happy, and not get worried about what I think could have made me happy. It’s a matter of reconciling the dreams I once had with the dreams I now have.
We all author our lives (to an extent), and it is up to us to keep the narrative in focus. When your life changes, your dreams change. Sort of like when you lose a lot of weight – you need new clothes, but still pine after your old wardrobe.