We're Not The Same, Dear, As We Used To Be

I am still consistently amazed at how happy I am. People ask me how I'm doing, and my response of, "Good! Really, really good!" isn't hiding anything, it's just the plain, simple truth. I am doing really, really good. I don't even care that that's not grammatically correct, THAT IS HOW GOOD I FEEL.

I had one low moment soon after I moved home, and that was my first in a while, and it hasn't been repeated since. Frustrating things happen, and I get through them just fine. I almost got lost in the backcountry of Smithsburg and had to become a mountain man for the rest of my life, because I thought I sure wouldn't find my way back to civilization. But I retraced my steps just fine, discovered the error I'd made in the dark, and even figured out why my directions weren't taking me where I needed to go. All while laughing.

It occured to me a while ago while I was listening to an album I really like (Brand New, "The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me"), when I thought to myself, That will never be me. I will never again be the mess and jumble of heartsick, disastrous emotions over love, or anything else really. I worked hard at getting myself stable and healthy, but that meant giving up the huge, passionate bursts of feeling. And I wondered to myself if I would ever regret the loss.

I regret the loss. I regret the loss of a lot of things; I'm not one of those people who doesn't believe in having regrets, but also, mine are different. I feel those losses, keenly, but in facing the decision again, I would make the same one every time. I am where I am supposed to be, I am convinced of that. And even if I don't know where I am going, because I haven't the slightest clue, well. I am happy right now. And I will treasure that.