We want everything, don’t we? No matter how much we have, there’s always something else we want. Or on the other end of the spectrum, we could remind ourselves like Danielle’s step-mother in Ever After that “no matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.” But we secretly want things to get worse. I know I do. I’m not obsessed with death or interested in the macabre, but I do enjoy thinking about struggling through hardships admirably and having people pat me on the back, telling me how much they admire my tenacity.
But to be fair, when I struggle no one notices. The people who inadvertently say, “How are you?” get a trite answer because I don’t trust them enough to open up about my feelings. Lest anyone misunderstand, I am doing rather well. I started a new job on Monday. I have not become overwhelmed (yet); I am trying to live one day at a time and still make room for working out. I am falling in love with my planner all over again and wondering why I wanted to be in grad school in the first place. (The school part hasn’t even started yet!)
I know the answer. Somewhere along the way, someone decided that successful people needed to have master’s degrees and convinced me of that falsehood. Because I bought into it, I believed that to achieve the next level of worth, I needed to earn my own master’s degree. Although I am being a little facetious, the fact remains that something I had not thought necessary two years ago, I now find absolutely necessary. The black leggings that I once abhorred I now find completely adorable and necessary to complete my happiness. But I also like to hold onto this thing called money. Alas, I can’t have my cake and eat it too. So I cherish Marie Antoinette’s motto: “Let them eat cake!” (Just stay under 1200 Calories a day, please.) And then my doctor will be happy too.