I’ve had days where I am perfectly well. I’m full of laughter, love and so much joy and thankfulness, it’s dripping out of my pores. It wafts around the room…it’s a continuous high that I fully appreciate. I could practically cry at how much I’ve grown and at what I have in terms of family and love. Things, included. (Although, I would like to think and say, even if to remind myself only, that I’m not materialistic…Thank God, and all glory to Him for what I have.)
I remember when we started off living in someone else’s home in a one bedroom. We were living on a black, cotton futon that scraped the wall when you set it upright and we had just recently bought out first dresser from IKEA. We were so happy for our one little room. It was home, our little slice of get away. Then, we moved on up to our first apartment. A one bedroom on the outskirts of the city. We lived on the third floor and called the steps our daily workout…If we had only thought about that option when we finally moved out in the heat of summer.
This all scurried towards our newest venture. A 2 bedroom in a spunky part of town. Closer to the city and yet far enough away that we’re not squished and bombarded with the madness of the uptown funk. It feels wonderful to look around and say, “Dag…this is my home.” It’s an amazing feeling to look at the things that you have slowly cultivated and found in thrift shops, Goodwills, and (I’ll even admit it) dumpster dives. Although, maybe not the literal dumpster. I would say more the curb adjacent. Do you remember the moment, when you noticed your home wasn’t just four white walls, but a place of warmth and family? A place where you truly were excited to get back to?
I remember that moment clear as day. We had stared at the walls, we had a moment of clarity. A moment where you’re practically walking around in each other’s minds. And as we stared at the wall, I remember thinking, “Man, I really want to paint this.” As if prompted, my husband spoke the very words I thought. I stated a nice yellow would be amazing. I loved it because it said HELLO without being too loud and it said REST without being too firm. We painted two walls in our living room and it immediately added flavor to the room.
I know a lot of people say, home is where the heart is, and I believe that is something true with a certainty. Especially, since as a child I moved around quite a bit. I didn’t have a “home”. I had a place where family resided and that was home. But now that I’m married, and we’re making a home for ourselves, it’s nice to be creating something that you hope won’t move; a place that stands as a beacon, if you will, to call you to the ones you love.
It’s lovely to see all that we have amounted from when we first started and then to be roaring towards another goal is another excitement altogether. However, there is a flip side. Another part of the coin. Just as quickly as joyfulness and gratefulness comes, it can quickly scamper away. In it’s place, discontentment crawls. It bellows and flops around like a dying fish. It squirms and fetters around mopey and flailing.
There is a wave of it’s aura that blows heavily around. It’s this feeling that, you’re just not good enough, yet. That, you’re not like the person to the left or the right. That you haven’t yet succeeded. Yes…we know the words to say, the encouragement we should bring ourselves. We know that we shouldn’t compare and stare at other’s success stories. Their homes, newborn babies, cars, jobs/careers…They’re splattered on our social medias and marketed in our faces.
It’s half our fault, too, which makes it worse because we play into this heinous game. We feel guilty as we know we shouldn’t feel this way. We know there is a role to be filled, but yet, we don’t want that. We want what we lack. We chide on with long faces, wondering,
“When will it be my turn?”
“What about me?”
Oh! How it bothers me. I just want to get a lot of money in that moment and just pay for all I want and go traveling around the world. Don’t you feel that way sometimes?
Instead, I try to sleep it off, walk around the block, or I might dabble in the piteous thoughts that slip in and out of my consciousness. In truth, I imagine that’s why I like to wander around Tar-jay and IKEA. I enjoy looking at the could be. I enjoy the fantasy, the fairy tale, the romantic notions that we all live HAPPILY EVER AFTER.
I suppose everyone thought they were doing us such a favor when showering us with such nonsense. True. There are happily ever afters, but it’s not as easy as giving a prince a kiss. It means putting your nose to the grindstone. It means gritted teeth and broken knuckles. Happily Ever After…that bizznatch. You gotta work for her. You have to buckle down and and say “I’m willing to work for you.” And then, even once you have that happy moment, you can’t just say it, you have to show it, repeatedly, because your words by themselves mean nothing.
These fairytales…they hold the clouds to discontentment. The keys we hold in our naïve little eyes and minds, hoping that it will cultivate a dream that will make everything the way it needs to be. I refuse to be let down by those moments. I refuse to let them coddle me with lies because they only spell out a certain defeat. You sit looking at your options with once upon a times and happily ever afters…and you’ll only end up with just that…fairy tales that don’t come true.
You must word hard and pray for the way to be paved with kindness and grace while on your journey. You can’t feel defeated. You can’t get upset and lost. You must get ready for the timing ahead, which will require your 100,010%. Are you ready for that? Are you prepared to show the world whatcha got? Because if not, discontentment, comparison, and tattered dreams will be the totality of your days.
Ever felt less than a person because the kid next to you is doing so much better than you? Yeah, Millennial. We know what it feels like? Spill the beans. Have you felt that way? How did you handle it?