I am publishing excerpts from past journal entries as a way to excavate my own history. These have been lightly edited for clarity. Edits are notated in the passages.
A strange thought crossed my mind today. That despite all the vagaries of my love life and the occasional torment of work, these last six months since I moved to SLO [San Luis Obispo] have been among the happiest of my life. From being surrounded by friends all the time to falling in love – and yes, out of it – in nothing short of a beautiful way to visiting a few good friends on the East coast over the summer to a wild harvest that was, yes, maddening, but I survived, to a withdrawn November full of healing, running, and writing, to a fantastic trip home to a magical New Year’s Eve to one of the best birthday months I could have asked for, oh, yes, these last six months have truly been incredible. I have been happy. Not every moment of every day, to be sure. But happy in the way that means contentment, peace, a kind of daily contemplation that leads me ever on.
Happiness is real and it can be attained.
The world turns, and I am glad to turn with it. Instead of being overwhelmed, as may I once was – and could be again – with fear, loneliness, and grief, I am instead now hopeful. I am surrounded by people who give me hope. I am surrounded by people. I am surrounded by love. Perhaps I begin to emerge from my chrysalis, wing by glossy wing. I have died a caterpillar and will live again with wings.