I haven’t written anything personal in over a month. I could try to say that it’s because I’ve been busy, but I’m always busy. Or I could say that it’s because nothing exciting has happened to me, but that’s not true. Or I could say that I was just waiting for the right moment, which I suppose could be true, but it’s not like there’s ever going to be a right moment. So, I guess the truth is just that I haven’t been able to find the right words. How funny is that? A woman who always has something to say about everything suddenly can’t find the words to express herself. Mais, c’est la vie.
Within the past month, I haven’t done anything spectacular. I didn’t cure cancer or fly to the moon or create the next iPhone. I didn’t get over my fear of commitment or start acting my age. But I learned a lot. About myself and about my family and about the world. And I laughed a lot. And I even cried a little bit. And throughout all of the classes and shows and doctor’s appointments and meetings and rehearsals and phone calls and trips to the grocery store, I realized that this what I’m choosing to do with my life. I’m choosing to spend my time in theatre school. I’m choosing to spend my time living with 3 other wonderful women and surrounded by 4 boys who make my life ridiculous. I’m choosing to work in bridal and give info sessions about the school of theatre. I’m choosing spend money on good food and nice clothes and cheap wine. I’m choosing to be happy with where I am.
But then there are also the days when I choose to complain about how the dishes aren’t done. Or I choose to let myself miss someone who did me wrong. Or I choose to let myself dwell on dumb mistakes I made weeks ago. Or I choose not to speak up about how I feel when I know that I should. There will always be moments, or hours, or days, when I choose to be unhappy as well.
It’s not about being happy all the time. It can’t be. As much as I love the happiness projects or motivational quotes about following your bliss, life isn’t always going to make me happy. And people aren’t always going to make me happy. And I won’t always make myself happy. But for all of the bad that there is in the world, I want to hope that there’s just as much good. And for all of my horrible days, I want to hope that better ones are coming.
I refuse to believe that growing up is making yourself happy all the time. I think that growing up is learning to take the good and the bad and the happiness and the bitterness and the joy and the sadness and find within all of it some sort of way to live. I can’t ask the world for happiness, but I can believe that if I put kindness and goodness and love out, something should eventually come back. So that’s what I shall choose to do.