I’ve been home for nearly 4 weeks and the same question has come up again and again: am I happy to be home?
Despite the fact that I discovered that I’m filthy rich in every single currency except for the one I need, I’m surprisingly happy with my current coordinates. So I was surprised when a friend recently asked if I needed help getting up on my feet again. I was never down in the first place. I quit my job eight months ago to travel and volunteer; I’ve been without a steady paycheck since. But the fact is, I’ve never looked back. Nor have I felt so incredibly up.
Coming from the US, and especially from New York, we are so programmed to equate happiness with a steady paycheck that sometimes we forget to ask if our underwhelmed and over-caffeinated souls, are in fact, happy.
There’s a disposition to discount the importance of travel and the afterglow of a good trip where you feel refreshed, alive and motivated to work again.
So am I happy? Yes. I feel this incredible surge of energy to move on to the next chapter, to find the next cool thing to do, and to make the old and familiar- fresh again.
I don’t live in a fantasyland where I think I can live off my good looks (ha) and insurance will pay for itself (though it should). I don’t have any problem working my butt off to find my next job either. But at the moment, I am comfortable reveling in the slight discomfort of life without a steady check. Because truly, I think it’s the discomforts in life that challenge us to think outside the box the most.