I’ve been so worried about ending up unhappy that I haven’t stopped to realize that I am happy.
I am married to a wonderful man, and we are truly in love. Sometimes I doubt it, but underneath the fear is love. He wants to have babies with me, and I’m starting to get really excited about the possibility. But I also worry.
I worry that I won’t do all the great things I envision for myself. I worry that I’ll fall somewhere on the “normal” end of the spectrum. For some reason, “normal” scares me. It feels like failure. I’m afraid to make the wrong move so I make none at all.
What if I’m meant to be a writer? Or a juice bar owner. Or an energy healer. Or a teacher. I am inundated with endless choices. I understand that we all get to where we’re going, but the angst is still there.
It sounds contradictory but amidst all this wonder and confusion, I am happy. Lost, yes. Uncertain. Overly cautious. Mindful of each and every step. Check, check, check.
And also happy.