[not so] buried treasure

I was reading through some of my posts just after we moved to Chicago [September 2009]. It was such an exciting time. I couldn't believe how quickly our apartment came together [and here and here], nor how quickly we got out and felt comfortable with our new city.

I was in awe at the joy and optimism of the time. It was so exciting, and the girl writing had no idea what was coming her way in terms of a reality check in so [SOOOOO!] many ways. I miss that joy. I think it's finally safe to say that we regret leaving Chicago, but for whatever reason we ultimately felt compelled to, we are on a different path. I don't know if anyone who met me post-Chicago could understand the ridiculous optimist I was.  There was no fair and unfair in my world, only new ways to make lemonade. I think I am finding ways to be joyful again. It has taken me almost two years to figure that out, and admittedly, it's a choice I struggle with more often than I'd like - and perhaps a bigger struggle because it used to be something I didn't have to think twice about [and not because I was always happy, but I always had this inner-well of something that kept me moving].

All of this leads to the post I read that made me stop and think the most. It's about Getting Older. And I just want to say: "Dear 24-year-old me, thank you for knowing exactly what your 27-year-old self would need to read someday. Truly. I am grateful for whatever inspiration that would cause me to not only write down those feelings, but to be compelled to call on them again."

Isn't is funny how easily we can forget the things we already know?


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