Most of the time when I think about where I thought I’d be by now and where I am, I like to think that I am a lot happier now than I would have been if everything had gone to plan. Occasionally, there are days that take so much out of me that I wonder if that’s true.
I wonder where I’d be and who I’d be if things had just gone the way they were “supposed” to.
Would I still be with The Ex, trying aimlessly to make a career out of writing other people’s stories – getting married and planning the future with him? I can say, without a single doubt, that a life with him is not anywhere near what I want, now that I know better.
Would I be with JME in the townhouse we had in our little suburb of the city, raising James and an almost 1 year old, together?
What if I’d given in and moved in with and married The Mirage?
I would have miserable – there isn’t a single doubt in my mind about that one.
I mean a lifetime of misery is exactly the reason why I chose to walk away.
I am truly happy, where I am now, but sometimes I can’t help but want just a little bit more.
I am not, by any means, unhappy.
I just covet a little more enrichment in some aspects of my life.
Truthfully, it’s the usual stuff that I gripe about – I wish that I had someone in my life.
As happy as I am, I find myself jealous.
Friends getting married and having babies – and then more babies – picking up their lives and moving across country, or to another country, travelling, career changes – the list goes on and on.
I’m not always jealous, but it does happen.
Glimpses of jealousy.
I can’t even finish writing this, but I guess I’ll publish it anyway.
The strangest thing about this post is that everything I’ve written here, has asolutely nothing to do with what I had the intention of writing about. I guess, even in the one place where I should be able to write what I’m thinking, I can’t.
Fortunately, sitting here thinking about it, writing it out and erasing it, writing it out and erasing it, has just exhausted me and for the first time in a couple of weeks, I think I’m actually tired enough to get some sleep.
It isn’t even directly related to all of this – other than the jealousy aspect.
I suppose I’m just not ready to face my own feelings and confront them by writing them out.