I Love.

I’ve been doing some things I love. And I think that’s important to say, and to think about… to question: What do you love?

When I was in elementary school, I did things I loved. I played outside. I sang karaoke. I roller bladed. I reenacted Spice Girls concerts with my friends. I went to school, which I didn’t love. But I loved success and having goals and achieving them. I liked seeing my friends and being told positive things, so I worked hard at school. I played with Play-Doh. I made cookies with my mom. I beat the boys in Knock-Out. I jumped on the trampoline. I ate pizza. I loved the color orange. I wanted to be a travel guidebook writer. I wore my one-piece bathing suit all day, because: Florida.

And while I do some of these things still today (uh… I’ll let you decide which ones), I have been doing other things that I should be doing. I do things I think I like. Things I’m told I’m good at, or need to do for my future, so I go along with it. I know we all have to do these things. It’s part of being an “adult,” something none of us have signed up for.

But here, I’m not talking about paying bills and having a boss. I’m talking about the other million moments which fill our days. It’s the idea that “this is what other people my age are doing, so I should do it too.” Going out (I have my list of places I want to go). Drinking wine (I hate wine). Straightening their hair, only to curl it (this makes no sense to me). Wear, or care about, designer clothes (give me a rotation of button ups and jeans). Contouring (wtf?).

I struggle sometimes. Because I’m struggling to find a job I like. I think this will define a part of me: “What do you do?” I don’t want to end up in the follower sea: work a job you hate; pay for crap you don’t need.

But the past week or two, I have had some free time, and I’ve been doing things I love.

And what an interesting perspective I've gained. It’s a good thing, even though our apartment is a mess. (A mess. Sorry.) But I do it, because it feels right, it feels good to love.

For example:

While I like exercising, I don’t always love going to a foursquare with rubber floors encapsulated in sweat. I love riding my bike. I love running outside. Walking my dog. Walking with Trav. I love the time after everyone’s just gone to work for the morning, and the time of night before sunset.

I don’t like watching TV. But I like adventure and history (and HGTV), so Trav puts on shows I will watch so we can watch together. Aerial America- great show. Fascinating.

Trav got me building lessons for Christmas. It’s something I’ve been begging to do- build, get dusty, create something useful and with pride. Risk losing a finger. I did those lessons this week. About 7 hours of asking questions on how to mill a piece of workable wood. How the pieces work together. How they look so naturally beautiful. I got to chop wood up and wear goggles and ear muffs doing it. I left dirty and happy, and passionate to fuel my ideas on “what’s next.”

I cleaned out my closet. I got in the frame of mind like, “I don’t need this. I don’t feel good wearing this anymore.” And it went into a bag. Soon enough, I had four bags, around 80 pieces of clothing. Amazing I still have so much to wear, by the way. And it’s obvious I like wearing the color blue. “You sure? Haven’t you just worn these things?” Trav would say with each bag. “Yup. It’s gone.”

I cooked- benefitted everyone. ‘Nuff said.

I borrowed Trav’s mom’s sewing machine. The first time I used it, I broke two needles and came up with a bundle of knotted string. But I stuck with it. Trav would say, “You’ll get it,” along my journey of eye rolls and muffled cuss words. I made Archie, our dog, a toy. And a cape. And a stuffed heart. It’s not perfect, any of it, but how cool to make one thing out of another?

I got a cheap set of watercolors. I now am the proud owner of about 20 pieces of paper with watercolor doodles all over it. Names, flowers and leaves, mountains with my tiny home on it. Dreaming. I whistle without knowing it. Trav will call my attention to it every timeand I imagine I have this excited/innocent/manic look plastered on my face. Crazy hair, every time. And he’ll come over, laugh and kiss me, saying he loves me the most when I’m like this. I wonder what’s wrong with him.

Maybe it’s because I am doing something I love, and don’t really think about anything other than why I’m doing it: that is, it makes me happy. Lovingly, fully happy. And he’s heard the days and nights I feel sad and worthless. When I hate everything. And then I create, I love, and I am happy in my simple world. And he believes in me. He believes my passion will fuel me onto something greater than I know.

This is what I don’t know: what I’ll become. I know I shouldn't, but I get anxiety about it. But I know that creating and doing things I love, in spite of the endless hours of other things I don’t, make me a motivated, happy person to be around.

This girl wants to write a book and design and build and climb mountains and hopefully she showers every now and then, too. But I like this girl I’ve found. The one who will struggle to find out what she loves, but when she gets there, it’s a good place to be. It’s not bragging or “look what I’ve done,” I just feel excitement which I can’t contain. Work at making happiness a choice.

It’s a journey. Not to jinx it or anything, but I think I’ve discovered a clue to a happy life.

#happy #selflove #becoming #love #knowingyourself