The consolation for this feat is being deposited at the Ferry Building where the Farmer's Market is gaining its full swing momentum. After obtaining an overpriced cappuccino and cannoli, I set myself down at a window seat, facing the Bay and engage with the latest New Yorker on my iPad. Happy chatter surrounds me, and locals parade by carrying rainbow varieties of greens and carrots.
Then, I'm reminded, it's not a bad life. I have time to sit and enjoy the morning of what is my Tuesday. I'll work through the weekend until Wednesday when I will be the one enjoying a lazy morning in bed while everyone else goes to work.
I'm working diligently to carve out a life that works for me. It's hard, especially when I see friends still reaching for brass rings, still fighting the good fight. I don't deny that I feel pangs of guilt for not actively contributing to that struggle. I question the decisions that brought me here. Then I remind myself that I spent a lot of time giving and doing for others. In fact, I feel like I've contributed a lot, accomplished a lot. I'm OK with where I'm at right now.
I've heard that when looking for love, it comes to you when you stop trying so hard to find it. I think that theory applies to happiness as well. I spent a lot of time doing all the things I thought would fulfill me, only to come up drained and at a deficit in spirit.
In some ways I've lowered my expectations. It makes it easier to accept what's thrown at me. I accept the good, find a way to work with the bad, and try to remember to be thankful for all I have, and how far I've come.
It's a perfectly good enough life.