Content

Contentment is hard to gain and surprisingly, even harder to maintain.

I’m in a space of life right now where I can honestly claim that life is very good.

Things with my husband have been rocky for a long time, with some times worse than others, but somehow, we have finally managed to find a flow that is working and that feels really good.

After two years of struggling with the outrageous housing market, we were finally able to buy a house back in January. It is admittedly not in the greatest area, but it’s not in the worst. And it’s a beautiful house, even with all the improvements we still need to make to it.

My pets, my beloved Valentine and our three senior cats are doing well so far. Valentine will be 10 this year and I keep telling him that he needs to live forever so that I never have to miss him.

My job, private practice, which I switched to 3 years ago, is the most productive, gratifying, and stress free work I’ve done in my entire career. I talk to people all the time who’s main source of stress and grief is their work environment, and I can no longer relate so deeply to that sentiment.

My son, the light of my life, is amazing. He is huge and adorable and funny and a troublemaker and I love him more than life itself. I imagine his future and I only see the most beautiful things for him.

Life is good.

So why, tell me, do I struggle with looking backwards. It’s like my mind wants to be tortured by something because how can life just be good.

To those that are mentally disturbed, contentment can sometimes be boring.

The restless part of our brains seek out the thrill, the anxiety, the dopamine of new and exciting, which can also come from uncertainty and struggle.

The young girl in me, the small dysfunctional part of my brain that will always be and that I’ve worked so hard to shrink, feels old and boring and unattractive. So she ventures into memories when I was younger, adventurous and wanted.

She remembers times of being desired, of being admired and then laments how she could have been more so, if only she had access to mental health therapy, Prozac and laser hair removal at the time. She could have ruled the world.

Then the old wise part of me remembers what it was like to be that girl, in those situations. All the internal turmoil and insecurity. The being objectified and treated as such. The not knowing what will be or how to get to where I wanted. The feeling of powerlessness and hopelessness. The torment of every “wrong” decision being the end of the world. The suicidal thoughts.

Maybe that girl was more attractive and mysterious and wanted, but I’m much happier and confident.

So I try to remind myself of that.

Plus, let’s say I could go back to the past and redo my young adult life, knowing what I know now, yes, I’d be a totally different person with totally different experiences, but would I be as good a therapist if I never knew those struggles? Probably not. And if I wasn’t able to so deeply relate and connect with my clients experiences, would I be able to help them to the degree that I do now? Again, I don’t think so.

As much as I would sometimes love a redo of my young adult life, I know it would result in a completely different life than I have now. And honestly, this life is pretty great, even with all of the fighting, crawling and dusting myself off that I’ve had to do to get to this moment.

So, full circle, I’m grateful for my experiences, even when I sometimes wish I could change them.

They are why I’m in this space today.

Of being content.