Happiness... Who knew

[nozenfordaddy]

I might want to give the prozac a little of the credit on this but yesterday was a day that I just felt geuinely happy and content with myself.

It was a good day. I was up early and at work early as requested by my boss. I was productive, entertaining when needed and well informed. All the little things I had to do all day fell into place. Traffic was good, my hair behaved itself and I stayed well within my calorie range.

All the minor annoyances of a project going for approval, planning an event, my boss coming to me for information he should already know and not gettting home until hours after my usual time were just that… minor.

Like I said, it was a good day. Long and exhausting but good. That hasn't happened in a while and its nice to know I'm still capable of it. I'm a pramatic person. I can look at myself honestly and not be horrified by what I see. It's just who I am. Good, bad or binge eating. But sometimes my personal demons break free, they get loose – and I become bleak, and so fucking damaged no one can stand to be around me.

I recognize it now. I couldn't have before. Does that mean I'm maturing? I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

I was wandering around my brand new condo yesterday and I realized that I might actually be starting to feel like myself again, feeling like I'm home (despite the lack of a couch). The quiet feels like solitude and not isolation, and my life has started feeling like a life and not a place keeper for something else.

For today at least happiness is prozac and an empty condo. Who knew.

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[illmantrim.livejournal.com]

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