or perhaps, is pizza life?
why aren’t we all eating pizza.
it is enough to know how good things are. you don’t always have to feel it.
you’d like to, but you sometimes just can’t. mostly at night. learn to live with that.
learn to live with dissonance. learn that who you feel you should be and who you are and who you thought you would be at this point don’t match up. enjoy the distortion. or try not to think too much. or try not to cry.
fantasize about going to a therapist who will say broad, enlightening things that will expand the room above you until there’s air to breathe and you’re as beautiful and inspired as you hoped you might secretly be. remember how you quit your last therapist after the first session because it gave you too much anxiety.
fantasize about being middle aged. having a teenager instead of a toddler. don’t say that out loud because parents of teenagers will want to punch your face. don’t worry, you want to punch your own face a lot too.
laugh. let things happen. let go of plans. let the process of home buying take a freaking year. let too much tv watching happen, for a season. start to think of everything as “for a season,” because it’s better than the big-picture-applying you tend to do of every bad feeling to the rest of your magnificent life.
tape a huge piece of paper to the coffee table and teach your son the joys of painting. be very very proud of yourself when the carpets and doors and walls are clean at the end of it. be very very proud of your son for his art. and his ball throwing. and his learning to say banana (“nana.”) your son is very very talented.
look around and want to cry at how good things are. have a moment of clarity. think about the tragedies all around you and hold on tight to this perfect nucleus of love.
stop feeling guilty for now. let yourself think you might be okay. you might be great.
know that you are enough.