After spending a week of vacation in the forest and lakes of more-northern-than-me Ontario the return to the concrete jungle of suburbia was a bit like a smack in the face with a heatwave.
Actually it was exactly like a smack in the face with a heatwave.
I’m not a city girl, I’m not even a suburban girl. I like green spaces and trees, lots of both. Concrete and asphalt are my sworn enemies.
All this to say – Boy, I’d sure like to move.
Are you rolling your eyes? Go ahead and roll them, I deserve it. I’m practically begging you to click away with my on again off again moving debate.
Please don’t click, stick with me, puh-leeze. I have a point, promise. I’ve come to the crux of the problem, the hurdle that I can’t seem to get over in the whether to move or not debate. It’s happiness.
Happiness does not come easily for me, I have to work at it. And I have to work hard.
Happiness has long been a destination for me. I am in the process of changing that.
The truth is – a new house, in a more rural area, with a pool would add to my happiness. But when I start to get excited about the lifestyle changes a new house would bring the mean wolf barges in and sticks her nose in my business saying -
- What kind of person needs a new house, with more debt, to be happy?
- You should just be grateful for the house you have. Some people have nowhere to live you know.
- You’re a terrible mother for even suggesting that your kids change schools for your own happiness.
- I know you, and you are a miserable complainer. You’ll be unhappy wherever you are.
When I write it out like that it makes sense why I am totally mixed up and can’t make up my mind. There’s a war in my head. This moving debate is only one of many battles.
Crazy? Yes, I am. However did you guess?
The debate is not over whether we move or not, it is about me believing that I am worthy of happiness. It’s about me choosing happiness and ignoring the mean wolf. It’s about me working to build the life I want to have. I will make all that happen. One day.
In the meantime I am breaking up with Pinterest and getting back together with MLS. It’s not you Pinterest, it’s me.