I always used to have a picture in my head of what my life would look like as an adult. I imagined it in vague detail, like a painting observed from far away. I’d be successful, I’d be happy. I’d have a pet and a husband or partner and a job I liked. I’d have made it.
I’ve moved 19 times in my life. The reasons always varied. Some were out of necessity, some for practicality, some for fun. But in almost every place, I found something that was missing in the previous one, and found new things lacking. Try and try again. If I could just finish college, get a good job, move somewhere warm, somewhere I speak the language, work from home, work from an office, find a boyfriend, be single…I’ll be happy. Life will fall into place.
I’m 28 now. And it’s taken me most of my life to realize I’ll never have it made. There’s no end point, no destination where happiness will finally settle into the doubtful grooves of my life.
A good life is not something you achieve and no longer have to struggle for. It’s constant work. Health, happiness, self-improvement, love, it’s an ongoing process.
I’ve been reading the sun and her flowers by Rupi Kaur and she puts its elegantly.
I think I thought my life would fall into place perfectly when I moved here. I chose to be settled; surely a settled life would surround me naturally. Turns out work, health, relationships, and all the rest are just as fickle here as anywhere else.
I don’t know how it is for everyone else, but I typically find life to be pretty difficult most of the time. And yet I am amazed that through it all I have never been broken and have never been inclined to give up.
There’s no reaching happiness, no moment when your life will finally reach perfection. There’s just this: the messy, chaotic, difficult, increasingly beautiful work in progress. It’s not easy, but it’s sure as hell worthwhile. And the work is never done.
The past couple of weeks I’ve been marking goals for myself. Practice piano. Write more songs. Get better at yoga. Write every day. Read more. Watch TV less (outside of work). I make lists, I forget about them, I start again. The thing about life being a work in progress is that it’s always work. Trying to become the best version of myself takes a lot of effort. So I’m trying. Failing often, but trying continually.
Little update: Bridget came to visit from Thailand, which was well overdue after almost a year apart. We explored the beaches, ate all the burritos, and stayed up later than I have since I moved here. It was good. Here’s a picture
That’s all for today. Love to you all ❤️