Difficult and Knowing It

The constant battle in my mind between being thankful that I am content with my life and being terrified at the basic idea of contentment rages on.

I had settled in nicely for a stretch of time. I had accepted so many things about my new life that in theory weren't at all what I was looking for. 

But for the past week I find myself wrestling with the idea that what defines me and what makes me who I am is slipping away little by little. The passionate, enthusiastic, engaging parts of me - slipping away as I ease my way into settled suburban existence.

I tried to explain this last night to someone who puts up with me on a regular basis. I said "I used to be the inspired and irrational girl who moves to Africa - now I'm someone who goes to an office 8-5 and rushes home to feed their dog."

I don't know if I'm being overly analytic of my "could have been" and now "is" life, or if I'm turning a microscope on my already introspective nature and feeding the unhealthy part of me that is always looking forward and never enjoying the present...

"Expectations are resentments under construction." My life has been one long string of high expectations - is that why I'm feeling so resentful?

I find myself exhausting. I read this post over - and although it is genuinely how I feel - I sound like a spoiled existentialist who is wasting a beautiful life by wishing for something else. Eff that noise. I'm taking yet another lesson from Anne:


‎"...most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of the people around you."


And that is absolutely more than enough.