The New York times published an article called The Small Happy Life. I found it a thoughtful essay. I relate.
After daddy died (I was 14), besides holding relationship more dear, I was a “Live! Live! Live!” Grrrl. I felt I needed to be/do/think big. (The inner frenzy now reminds me of the Peter Gabriel song, Big Time.)
Now I have a wonderful, contented life. We have a modest home in a modest city instead of the condo in Chicago with a view of Lake Michigan that I nearly bought. We sing at nursing homes and make folks light up and sing along, instead of me singing solo on a big stage or in a movie s I dreamed as a child. I have no unsecured debt, and at present no car or house payment… Instead of the expensive hair, clothes, shoes, and credit card/car payments I had when I was trying to impress others and myself.
Ironically, I have more friends and more ease than I ever imagined… and I love being an adult. Life is full and joyful. I have never laughed so much!
I once truly had a job with a key to city hall. It paid well and someone’s else sorted my mail for me. I had another job where the secretary supported my needs (after I had been the secretary myself for years). Now I work more hours for less pay, but fewer expenses… and am content.
And my husband lights up when I walk into the room. Who needs designer clothes? This is the life.