Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Where Do You Belong?

We were gathered around the kitchen counter in a house with Pottery Barn written all over it. Hanging rustic chandeliers, dark wood floors and off white couches with metal lamps nestled next to them. I felt comfortable, sipping my glass of white wine and leaning on the kitchen counter, talking and listening and soaking in the friendship moments that were happening.

It had been a hard day. Between the gloomy weather and the job hunting that was and is continually leaving me frustrated, I felt defeated. I needed to vent and laugh and be reassured that I'm where I need to be and all things will work out.

The longer we talked the more at ease I felt about things. I knew I was being irrational when I said I wanted to pack up and go home because it's a phase, one that I get stuck in every once in a while. Don't we all, though? We collapse when things aren't how we want them, instantly looking for the quickest way out even if it leaves us feeling regretful and unhappy.

I left that night feeling blessed for friendships and an even deeper love for white wine. It was nearly midnight but my mind was running and I had blogs that needed to be read. I ended up on Facebook, surprise surprise, and caught myself reading wall posts from years past. Then something happened that left me with goosebumps, a feeling of complete reassurance and a sign that I'm exactly where I belong.


So maybe it is just a silly little Facebook quiz and maybe it means nothing, but I'm just going to ignore all that. Times may be unsettling and family may be extremely missed, but I'm going to ride out this wave with a smile on my face and great anticipation for all things ahead. 

The past week has taught me to look for teachable moments in unlikeable moments. Each day can't be borderline perfect but my attitude and outlook can make it close to that. I have learned to surround myself with others that will pick me up, breaking my moody streak and knowing exactly how much whip cream to put on my strawberries.

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