subject line: it's okay to be happy.

 

los osos, california

Its okay to be happy. I said it.

I have battled depression and anxiety for years. Because my body didn’t look the way I wanted and I didn’t feel beautiful. Because my heart was broken. Because I had commitment issues from years of watching my parents tear each others heart out. Because I felt stuck in my job and in my home town.

Then, I worked my ass off (literally and figuratively). I found love in the mountains, the way the rocks and dirt crunched beneath my feet as I tackled treacherous hikes. I traveled the states, drank coffee with strangers from tin coffee cups in National Parks, crashed on the couch of a hopeful musician in Nashville following his dream of being a country-western star (and made it, might I add) and chased the sun like the wild woman I wanted to be. I moved out of my home town on a whim. I fell in love with a boy who would never love me back and made it out alive. I have seen, done, and adventured more in my early 20’s than many people get to do in a lifetime, and I still battled anxiety. I thirsted for more, MORE, MORE. More wind in my hair, more freckles on my shoulders, more stories to tell.

I met a man, well, I stumbled blind drunk into a man... but that’s a story for another time. I went home with him, high-fiving myself for adding “One Night Stand” to my queue of stories. And then, I did the unthinkable. I fooled around and fell in love, for real. Total failed at owning my womanhood and taking a guy for granted like I had planned, but that’s okay. I fell in love, like in the movies, with a man who has since become my best friend and my husband to be.

A few weeks ago, we decided to treat ourselves to a bayside dinner of too much Italian food and a bottle of wine. We made pleasant conversation and occasionally checked the score of the Dodger game and lovingly shared our meals. On the way home, I cried. I cried because our dinner, though pleasant, gave me a massive anxiety attack that I could not intercept. I was bored. Why? During that car ride home, I had realized we were content in our ways. That we had found a routine and settled into it. I couldn’t stand it. So I told my fiancé that I was bored and made him doubt himself. We hardly spoke the rest of the night and slept on far sides of the bed. Neither of us knew what to do.

I woke up to an empty bed, he had gone off to work without a word and I lay there with a heart feeling 3 sizes too small and a burning headache of regret. I called him and told him I loved him and our beautiful life and he accepted my apology without question. He told me loved me back and that he loved our life because we work hard together and its okay to be to tired to get drunk or go to the beach sometimes. Because when you are happy with your self and with your life its okay to be lazy sometimes too.

I guess what I’m getting at here is that sometimes, we spend so much time trying to invent new demons we forget that countless battles we have won against the old ones.

For now, I am embracing the happy and the extra 10lbs that came with it, because I always wanted a big ass anyways.