Finding happiness in the little things: Delusionally romanticizing my entire life
By Gabby J.
As I sit here on my couch, taking a sick day due to a 100.3 F degree fever and watching “30 Rock” for the third time through ... I realize there is a lot that I could complain about. What, you may ask? Well, perhaps it’s the fact that my apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher or in-unit laundry. Maybe it’s the $58 I have to live off of for the rest of the week. I could complain that my family got me sick over the holiday weekend and how there aren’t enough hours in the day for my creative endeavors. If you think about it, there is always a lot to complain about.
If I’m being honest, my cynical outlook began years ago — arguably in my childhood, according to my therapist, but one day I suddenly realized it was all about perception. It wasn’t even a year ago where I was sitting on my roommate’s couch, violently stoned off of an edible and watching “Sex and the City.” I was overeating, I was depressed and lacking confidence. I yearned to be like Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte: navigating love lives and careers in the urban jungle all the while juggling a shopping addiction — in an apartment I can’t afford, nonetheless.
Instead, I was busy doing what I thought everyone wanted me to do. I had a job in insurance and a dangerously toxic relationship with a man who was in his career. Was that not what was expected of me? How was I so down in the dumps despite all the SSRI’s and achieved expectations? When you settle and stop dreaming, life becomes gray and dreary. Everything becomes easy to complain about; your only outlook is, “This is really it.” Mental illness kept sinking its teeth deeper and deeper into my mind. All I kept telling myself is that life isn’t a TV show, and it certainly isn’t like the movies ... (Hopefully not “Sex and the City 2,” by the way. Jesus, that one was rough.) If anything, I related my life to “Broad City” because the awkward discomfort and constant misfortune seemed on brand for me.
That’s when it hit me: discomfort and misfortune are for people who try. I realized I wasn’t even on a “Broad City” level of glamor, which is saying something considering it is anything but glamorous. But regardless of genre, life isn’t like a movie if you don’t swing and miss. It has taken me a year of hiding behind this facade of a “perfect life” to understand that I’m not boring enough for that. The movie can’t happen if I don’t even try to write the script.
And that is why I decided: I am going to delusionally romanticize my entire life. Credit card debt? Well, clearly Carrie faced at least a little bit of that after filling her multimillion dollar New York apartment with designer shoes. My car that may or may not break down at any moment? Who cares? I’ll sell it and ride the bus or take a cab because I’m a sexy, city woman. Being out sick? All TV show characters have to miss an episode here or there, right? Not having any money the week leading up to payday? Samantha would simply get a man to buy her dinner. No matter what crazy things happen to me, I have a life chalk full of unique experiences alongside my loved ones and we’re making it by. It’s simple and it’s sweet.
Life is full of sweet moments if you choose to see them. It’s hard work to choose happiness. Exhausting, even. But why not have a little fun and get a little serotonin boost by curating each moment within my own movie? For example, I can steep my favorite tea in my favorite tea cup. I can pick out music that suits my mood and clothing that resonates with my soul. I can enjoy a clean apartment after doing all my chores. I can enjoy a home cooked meal with a new recipe I tried. Perhaps with a friend or two. Don’t you see? Life can be a movie if you allow it to be the incredible story that it is.
As I sit here on my couch, taking a sick day due to a 100.3 F degree fever and watching “30 Rock” for the fifth time through, I realize there is a lot that I could complain about. But, I’m not going to. I don’t need to have all the money in the world or all of my debts paid in order to know my dreams are coming into fruition right before my eyes. I’m a self-made young woman who’s making it. And I know that overall, I’m glad I have a family to celebrate the holidays with (even though one of those bastards got me sick). And while there aren’t enough hours in the day to finish all of my creative work, I know for a fact I will always have something I can get lost in.
Header photo by Godisable Jacob / Pexels
