Accepting Contentment

In the days since my 30 Things post, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Life doesn't look at all like what I expected it would, but I'm oddly content. Well, maybe not physically. The desert heat is a bit much for me. Stepping outside often feels like walking into hell's fiery embrace.

I'm still holding out for a life that includes frequent travel to temperate climates, jeans, boots, and baseball hats. The desert's okay as home base, but I miss seasons. I miss crisp mornings and running in the rain. Sunshine everyday and perfect hair days make me very happy, but there is something sadistically charming about the Russian roulette of East Coast weather. Will my hair take on the ever frizzy-fabulous "I-just-stuck-my-finger-in-an-electrical-socket" look today or not?

On the whole though, when I look around and take measure of my life, I have no complaints. Everything feels like it's exactly where it should be. Even with my company under investigation and layoffs looming, I've been there, done that, survived, and somehow thrived. My job is important, because it pays bills. My freelance work is also important, because it keeps my options open. But when I'm done for the day, I can leave it all behind and focus on what's in front of me and make that the most important thing in that moment. In this heat, it's usually a Coconut Bliss bar. Hello, my precious. 

I thought I'd be married with kids by now, but instead I'm like the superwoman of singleness. If you would have told me at 21 I'd be chugging through my 30s still single with no prospects and totally okay with it, I would have called you a big fat liar, then run away and had an ugly cry. Yet here I am. Totally okay. Maybe it's because I know who I am now. Ten years ago, I was still trying to figure that out. My interests at the time revolved around whatever guy I liked. If he was into country music, I was into country music. If he liked studying in the library, I liked studying in the library. If he liked trucks, I liked trucks. (I actually do kind of like trucks.) Nowadays I know my actual interests because I actually know me. Laughter. Travel. Adventure. Intellectually stimulating conversation. Daily use of movie quotes and/or 80s song lyrics. All part of my life. All things I crave. With or without a guy--which is nothing I could fathom at 21. My dream was to fall madly in love and have a giant church wedding; but after the infamous Summer of Weddings in 2012, small sounds perfect. 

Like just him and me. 

I tell my mom all the time that she'll get a postcard from my honeymoon destination that reads: "We did it. Details to follow." Perfect scenario? He proposes and says he's got a guy in the next room, ready to perform the ceremony. Done. I would still love to be madly in love. But this whole falling into it business...rather than falling, I want to climb into love. When you fall, you eventually hit bottom. If you climb, you're always pushing, always inspiring, always encouraging each other toward the top. So...a small ceremony with a reception to be hosted at a later date? My 21-year-old-brain would have exploded at the thought.

The biggest surprise of the here and now is perhaps that my body and I are on speaking terms. Pretty impressive. Once a major source of angst, my body is almost a friend. Still kind of in that "frenemy" zone, what with the whole "I'm your body and I'm going to attack your thyroid" thing but...we're working through it. No where near bff status, but I can look at myself in the mirror and not pick myself apart like a used to. I can eat a piece of cake and not feel the compulsion to go and workout for three hours then starve myself for four days. It took three years of counseling and ten years of living, but I can stand to stare myself down in the mirror. Naked, no less. Never thought I'd see the day.  

It all makes me wonder if contentment is a journey or a destination. Maybe both? I think a state of contentment is and should be constantly evolving. Because even though I am content in this moment, I am not satisfied to stay here. I think we can safely ask "what's next?" while still being content in our current situation. Meanwhile, the 21-year-old me is still stuck on the fact that her current-self lives in the desert. "But it's so hot there." 

True that, sister.