Content or Comfortable
There’s a huge difference between being content with life and being really, really comfortable. The first one is hard to achieve, while the second one takes over our lives easily.
I have been wondering about the times I have been content, and the times I have been comfortable. Turns out, I took the former for granted too many times in this life. I can only dream about those moments where I was completely satisfied, the times that’ll never look back at me. And now I am so comfortable in my bubble of pain, illness, despair, that I have actually come to like it.
Not going out, not having friends, not attending social situations has become my life, and I am absolutely thrilled with it. I don’t need it anymore, because I am comfortable. I can’t need it anymore because this is so much easier than facing other people- people who don’t know me, people who try to know me - I don’t need them. I don’t want them.
I have so many excuses to not be social that I amaze myself. But I also ask myself from time to time, wouldn’t I be content with some people around me? Who knew me, actually, deep down who I am? And then my mind snaps at me, NO! We’re okay the way we are.
But I wont say there are no happy moments in my life. Because there are, there are many. When I look at them, I smile.
This is a constant reminder that don’t take any good moment for granted. It could be a day without constant pain in my body, or a day I go out to watch my favourite movie, or just the husband bringing me a cup of coffee, at 4 AM in the morning, because I couldn’t stop binge watching Broadchurch. It could be anything, anywhere, I just tell myself don’t take it for granted.
I still ask myself, am I content? Or just really, really comfortable?
I guess the answer is I am comfortably content with everything I have, and this time, I’m going to appreciate it all.
Oh, it’s also my birthday tomorrow.
The big three two. I never thought that would ever happen to me, whoopee.
My mind is manic and depressed at the same time.