Not accustomed to happiness, and I’ve probably covered this topic before. But like a car that’s gotten used to running on regular gas, I’m used to running on a shitstorm of horrible. It drives me – problem solving, having to work your way out of a tight jam, those last minute Hail Marys.
However, I’ve fallen into a situation I’m totally unprepared for – happiness. There are no fires to put out. And it scares the shit out of me.
What exactly is my identity? My sense of self is forged in saving things, people, situations – throwing someone under my arm and running out of a burning building.
That’s not to say I’m particularly good at it or honorable – most of it has been out of a sense of self interest and survival. It’s a mindset, a way of life.
But nothing horrible is going on and I’m fearful of growing complacent. My mom and dog are happy, I have a wonderful family and friends, a new place, work’s taking shape, and I’m in love with and loved by the most special human in the world.
It’s all I could ask for. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m trying to live in it and savor every minute.