I've loved the first (almost) year of dating my boyfriend. There is nothing like being in the swoony beginning stages of the last boyfriend you'll ever have. I liked (and now love) where it was going. The awkward missteps, the weird and wonderful conversations about our dead grandparents over a couple glasses of wine, the handholding that never gets old. Progression and deepening made me happy.
Then, there was the excitement of the new job. 2013 was going to be my year of happiness, I just felt it. I am immensely grateful for new information and kind co-workers and the opportunity to find happiness at work.
And my family, oh how we have blossomed into a good bunch. As my sisters and I have gotten older and my parents have found new hobbies, there's a new era that my family is embracing. It's fun, and involves a lot less arguments over clothes.
But what's next? That's what I find myself wondering far too often. What's the next step? The next city? The next adventure? And I've realized that anxiously waiting and trying to figure out the next six months, year, two years... is a waste of time. There's no need to fill up the empty space with worrying. I keep reminding myself that this feeling of contentment now will hopefully bode for more of that in the future. I know I'll figure out a way to accomplish all the crazy goals I've set for myself, but "progress" might mean being my best self, now.