Finding Place

I am quickly discovering that comfort does not equal happiness. Comfort is akin to inertia. A person can keep ambling along, doing whatever they are doing and they can be comfortable but they can also be unhappy.

A couple of years ago I was very comfortable. I was home with my son. I had enough money to continue with my daily cappucino and seven layer cookie addiciton. I was even writing for a little extra cash. On the surface, things seemed very good, except for the fact that I couldn't stop fantasizing about jumping in front of a bus or drowning myself in the bath tub. I was very comfortable and I thought that was what I wanted. However, once I found myself in the seemingly enviable position of the stay at home, artsy, mommy I felt as if I was staring into an endless void of kiddie songs and caffeine fueled crying jags over my cell phone in the park.

I don't think I was made to coast through life in that way. My comfort made me doubt myself. It made me doubt my own strength and ability to perservere. It made me twitchy and unable to cope with the slightest inconvenience. I became addicted to my own inertia feeling that I would fall apart if something really serious ever happened. I was afraid to go back to "real work" in case I wasn't good enough or up to the challenges that people over the age of three tend to provide. I hated myself for being so weak while the world around me kept doing crazy things in which I took no part. I missed the world but I didn't feel that the world had missed me.

At the moment I am extremely uncomfortable. I don't know from day to day how I will cover the gaps in my son's busy schedule. I don't know how I am going to make dinner or wash the sheets or make the necessary arrangements for my volunteer work at school or finish my lesson plans for one of my many teaching gigs. I just don't know how I am going to squeeze it all in while I plot out my career moves and figure out how to be a part of the world again. I'm insanely busy. I have thoughts constantly whirling around in my brain and I frequently forget to eat lunch, but I'm happy damn it. I'm almost there.

I need to be knocked off balance and still find myself standing at the end of the day. The pot shots that I've been getting lately make me feel proud and defiant. I feel more energetic and more loving. I don't feel as strong as I would like to feel, but I think that is something that will happen in time. Challenge is a potent thing and I am finding it necessary to my survival.

Comfort is not as good as it sounds.