Lucky (twenty)Seven

I made 27 years-old last week.

That’s 3 more years until I turn thirty. That’s 3 more years I have left of this blog.

I think it’s safe to say I lead a pretty good life these days. Holden is happy and healthy. So am I. And so are the people who weigh a hefty importance in our lives.

What’s even more than my basic needs being met, my thriving needs have exploded. I really and truly have both what I need and what I want… for now. In this moment. But this time around I’m going places. I’m doing things with all that I’ve been given. That’s the biggest difference from the last time I was close to feeling this way some years ago.

All in all I consider myself pretty lucky. Yeah, I’m looking forward to 27.

Still, I try to not get myself wrapped up in a fairytale. I had done that once before and we all know how that turned out. Separating real life from the idea of my life is essential to not let that happen again. However, never have the two been more closely related until now. Seems pretty darn authentic. However, there are days where I want to pinch myself and ask is this really real life? Because I just have it so good.

“Good things happen to good people, Sam,” people told me.

“This was all in the plan for you, Sam,” a handful said.

“You deserve this, Sam,” over and over again.

Do I believe in it all? It sounds nice, but I’m not so sure. Again, hesitant to believe in the fairytale but recognizing the realness.

Just before I get too wrapped up in all that’s going right in my life, Holden is there to remind me of just how real it all is. Or, just to remind me that not everything smells like roses when you’re elbows deep in two-year-old vomit and a sink full of dirty dishes. Knowing that I have hours of reading to do for graduate school and clients expecting some emails. While the laundry hamper is overflowing and I can practically see the bacteria growing in the bathtub.

But I’m happy to know theres vomit and dirty dishes to clean up. That probably means we had enough food for Holden to (over) eat. I’m happy to do the reading for school as that means I’m supported enough to further my education. Likewise with the clients, I’m happy to have a job. The hamper? Look at all of our clothes. And that bathtub… well, I have a bath tub. That sure sounds more like a fairtytale to me now than it ever would have before.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s not the real-life experiences that shape our outlook on life, but because our outlook shapes those experiences. I’m not happy because I have to clean. Likewise, I’m not happy because I’m divorced. I’m happy to do these things or have done those things because my outlook has become so positive. And that’s all given what I know now. In the heat of the moment, surely I’m not smiling from ear to ear scrubbing away at pots and pans. But I go to bed at night knowing how privileged I am to get to do what I do every day. At 27.



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