I am weary of being frugal. I am weary of being cautious. I am weary of being sensible. I am weary of hearing ‘wait’ and ‘not yet’ and ‘maybe, someday’. I want my someday now.
Is that selfishness speaking? Possibly. Probably.
I don’t feel my motives are selfish, or not wholly so anyway.
And yet things don’t change. Things never change.
I can try. I can push. I can endeavor to make something happen under my own power. But that never ends well.
So I wait, and I watch, and I see others prosper and I try not to grow too discouraged.
Then I feel guilty because so many have it so much worse than I do. And yet I whine about my misfortune. Ungrateful wretch that I am, I want more.
It’s ironic that the word I chose for 2011 (Or should I say, chose me?) is Joy. I don’t feel joyful. It is beginning to dawn on my dim mind, that joy is not a feeling, or not always. Joy is a choice, and one often made in spite of feelings.
I have a lot to learn this year.