In Love With Life

I'm not right now. Not really.  I mean, every thing's ok. Some things are great, others, not so much. Most days, I cringe to start the day and look forward to it ending, but I don't hate the whole thing. Make sense?

As a whole, I like my life. I don't want to trade with anyone else, and I'm proud of what we have here. I love my children, I like the volunteer work we're doing. I'm in love with my husband. I have good friends, good family.

Maybe it's a chemical thing. Those "winter blues" I wrote about recently.

Maybe it's called growing up. I think I read somewhere once that our serotonin levels drop as we age, making it harder to feel those "highs" than it was when we were younger.

I'd like to think that there's something I've yet to figure out. Some elusive secret of life that will make me feel those warm fuzzies permanently, without a hangover the next day, of course.

There have been plenty of seasons, years even, when I constantly looked around and wanted to weep for the sheer beauty and untainted joy of it.

Summers as a teenager were fun, traveling from trip to camp to late night hangout. We all pine for those days at times, I suppose.

My first two years of college were sheer joy. Not every moment of course. I was always surrounded by people I adored and I was constantly being inspired. I think I had an inflated view of myself. Ok, I know I did. I traveled to several countries and experienced the cultures there. I made lifelong friends. I met the love of my life, who is now my husband.

My first two years of parenting were the peak of my joy. I just adored every minute. Literally. I woke up early, ready to start the fun of taking care of my family. I felt like I was doing a good job and doing what I was made to do. I meal planned and cooked constantly. I cleaned and made schedules. I actually liked doing these things, I tell you.

I wonder if I have a tendency to remember things through rose colored glasses? I don't think so. I'll just as quickly remember the bad things that happened during those seasons. The sadness of losing best friends as an adolescent. The exhaustion and frustration of school. The grief and confusion that colored my life as a new mom. Yes, I am quick to forget the bad. Yet, there are plenty of seasons of my life that I don't remember so fondly. High school. My junior year of college, when I first knew what it was like to feel like not enough. The loneliness and bone weariness of China. The sadness when we moved away from New Orleans. I distinctly remember looking around during all of the good times that I just mentioned and telling myself "Soak this up, all of it. You'll never live these days again."

Tired. Just always tired. That's what permeates my hours these days. I'm just so dang unappreciative. I pine for the feelings I had as a new mom. I miss the magic of it. If I could ask God for anything today, it would be to have the magic back in our family. We're good. We all love each other. We're just getting through each day, though.