Why does the pursuit of happiness devalue our surrounding environment?
I spent the weekend doing some significant self care. I spent the morning decluttering my closet, rearranging furniture in my studio, and spent the afternoon in the salon chatting with my hairdresser.
I came home, made dinner, went for a walk with my husband, watched a French film.
I felt the need to paint something pink, something pretty.
What I really wanted to do was buy some pretties. Pretty lingerie, in particular but I didn’t because I would have defeated the purpose of decluttering my closet.
Yet after all of this, I find myself crying this morning while drinking a cup of coffee. Crying over mixed feelings about the impact of a significant event that happened personally back in September.
What does this even mean? I pray and I seek positivity by helping others, by showing random acts of kindness, yet when I’m home I’m unsettled.
I pace. I pace like an animal right before an earthquake happens. It’s my gut instinct…something is still “off” and I don’t like this feeling. I am waiting for the carpet to be ripped out from underneath my feet.
So I paint, I work long hours and I pray. Keeping myself busy so I won’t have time to think.
And here I am.