This morning, I feel content. Really, truly content. It’s something I have to document when it comes, especially in such a lovely wave as this.
I’m sitting on my bed, a bed that’s been made but once or twice these past few months, feeling the cool, autumn climate I’ve simulated via my AC window unit. Outside it’s something like 85 degrees at 9 a.m. in October. But in here, it is fall. In here, there are shelves and mirrors leaned against the walls, waiting to be hung. There’s a Craigslist-purchased couch with half its cushions naked on the floor. Their covers are still in the dryer, still trying their hardest to smell more like a Bounce sheet and less like the previous owner’s cat. There are a dozen pairs of shoes scattered around, but no dishes in the sink, a rarity I believe is a major contributor to my current state of contentment.
I’ve got a mile-long to-do list: SAFE updates, Bennett Communications story, indie retailer feature plan, CSP contract renewal, MBA research for Trent, life insurance … am I boring you yet? I might be, but I should tell you—I will do those things. And then I will work on my book. I’m writing a book now, have I mentioned that? I’m finally owning my dream, finally letting go of my fear of failure. And with each sloppy page I write, contentment swells inside me.
My family members are in turmoil—some small, some great. I talk to them on the phone and listen to their troubles. I love them and empathize with them. I think about them and pray for them. But I don’t take on their problems as my own. I don’t let myself get consumed by the burdens of all to the point of self-destruction. I’ve done that before. But I’m learning, little by little, how to be content without being heartless, how to be both a compassionate soul and a healthy one.
This morning, I feel a little nauseous, as I have almost daily these past few months. I’m almost two weeks into my second trimester and that nausea is still my near-constant companion. I’m gearing up for the long-haul, gearing up to live—really live—with a purse full of ginger mints and a night stand littered with empty teacups. And strangely, my contentment holds on still.
I’m not sure why on this morning of all mornings I feel such peace. But I suspect it has something to do with being in the right place at the right time, feeling in tune, not fighting what I want out of life, not worrying so much about what other people think. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I’m learning and growing and improving as a person and this morning, I can sense that change. I can see it in my to-do list and my messy apartment and and the rounding belly beneath my laptop.
Listening to: The Beatles, “Getting Better”