Crazed.

Yesterday, I got some annoying graduate school news (i.e. I now know it will take me the rest of my life to finish this degree that means nothing), so I’m currently stress-eating M&Ms and waiting for my husband to get home so I can go stress-eat some Indian food.  I’m trying hard (really, I am) to remain in the present.  I have a fabulous husband, a great family, crazy awesome friends, a job I love, lots of education and a cute little house.  However, it seems pretty easy for me to pick apart all those amazing things and find their inevitable faults: the job pays too little, the education put me in debt with little to no promise of pay off and the little house is a rental.

Being happy in the present is getting more difficult the older I get and the faster time seems to go.  How can I not worry about what will happen in two years when it will be two years from now SO SOON?  Additionally, I’m struggling with being satisfied with (and grateful for) what I already have without feeling like I’m settling for something less than what I can achieve.  Quite frankly, I think living in LA is doing this to me, which is a large part of why I want to move out of the area.  Owning an actual house is impossible for us (as we’re both teachers and a one-bedroom condo in the city goes for about $400,000) and every single person I interact with on a daily basis is a millionaire (like, actually.  I work at a very tiny, very wealthy private school).  I don’t want to be an investment banker or a commodities trader or an entertainment lawyer – every single thing I want to be when I grow up is fiscally irresponsible – but those are the kinds of jobs that get people established in LA.  I feel like this is both putting a ceiling on how successful I feel I can be and blowing my expectations for what is normal and necessary way out of proportion.  I do not need (or want) a house in the Hollywood Hills, two Range Rovers and a wardrobe of ugly, hideously expensive Hermes belts, but I find myself feeling crappy about my accomplishments because I don’t have those things.

What I really want is lots of open space, a house big enough for cozy family parties and enough money to (eventually) pay off my stupid, stupid loans.  A girl can dream.

I’m making this my mantra:

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