I’ve always been bad at recognizing when my life is good. Alternatively, I’ve been just as bad at recognizing when my life is bad. Like many who have suffered, the one thing I constantly sought was familiarity. In my mind, familiarity was good. It didn’t matter if I was trying replicate abusive relationships. Or if I was chasing after people I knew would abandon me. Or if I was deeply unhappy. What mattered was that it was familiar. For a long time, familiarity was all I had and I learned to take comfort in it. A few nights ago, I was telling my friend about how the happiest times of my life were during college. He looked at me and shook his head. “No, Rebecca, all I remember from that time is you telling me how unhappy you were.”
I don’t know which one of us is right — Rebecca circa 2011 or present Rebecca. It could have been that I was happy then and I didn’t know it. More likely, I really wasn’t happy then, but it was familiar and, with all the change in my life recently, I long for familiarity.
These past few months, though, I’ve been fighting hard for what I actually want and deserve. I’ve been fighting to let go of familiarity. It’s a tough fight. This morning, I walked to the CCRB from my apartment in Kerrytown. As I passed East Ann, the street behind my old church, I let out a cautious breath. I was nervous to run into one of them, the churchgoers. Under their judgmental eyes, I always feel defensive, like I have to prove to them that I’m better off now then I ever was with them. But I knew that it was pointless, that they would believe whatever they believed, and I could do nothing to change that. With a shrug of apathy and acceptance, I was on my way. While I was on the treadmill, I smiled to myself and thought, “Every Sunday morning that I’m in the gym instead of church, that is a good thing.”
There are many other good things in my life right now. Last week, I started my yearlong internship at MIRC, and I couldn’t be happier. The people I work with are amazing, from my heart-of-gold boss to my fellow intern to the clients who need so much help. As an extrovert, I love getting to interact with people every day, 9 to 5. Although I used to feel overwhelmed and trapped by routine, I’m appreciating it more and more these days. I guess I’m getting old. Last night, the house party next door was blasting horribly obnoxious techno music. Instead of feeling left out of the fun, I growled, “Ugh, kids these days” and went to sleep on my spare bed to get away from the noise. Jesus, I’m ancient.
I’m learning to live for myself. I cooked one of my signature dishes yesterday, teriyaki chicken with peppers. It was the first time I’d made it for just myself, and it tasted just as sumptuous as ever. I’m still enjoying my apartment — while it has a few shortcomings, it’s by far my favorite place I’ve ever called home. I’m realizing that there are many people who loved me and do love me, from my family to my friends to my former lovers. They have given me so much and taught me so much; I feel incredibly grateful for the way they have loved me. Though I’m no longer speaking with all of them, their words of encouragement, support, and criticism still echo in my head.
The best part of my life right now? This face:
Seriously, look at that face! How can life not be good when you wake up to and come home to this pretty girl?
Are you content with your life? What does it take to make you happy?
À la prochaine,