This little light of mine…

The vast majority of my days feel so monotonous and plain that it’s sometimes difficult to believe that time is passing at all. In fact, if someone were to walk up and announce that I’m just living the same day over and over, that my life is actually on a loop, I’m not getting older, the whole feeling of not really being where I think I should be in any area is a false alarm, because CONGRATULATIONS!, I actually get all this time back and this was only a practice run, I would simply jump and cheer. *cue the happy tears*

There are those sure-fire reminders that time actually is passing. For instance, birthdays. Both mine and friends. It seems like only yesterday my goddaughter was born, and she’ll turn four her next birthday. And I reflect on the time that has passed and wonder “what have I done?” or “what have I checked off of my beloved to-do lists?”

I spend a lot of time feeling depressed about my lack of funds, pages written, health insurance, paid vacation time, vacations period, and that feeling of “man oh man, wouldja look at meee!” that comes when you’ve gotten stuff done.

But every so often I take the time to look at my life and notice how far I’ve really come. That while living in my first apartment wasn’t the best experience due to the unfortunate roommate situation, I actually lived on my own for a while there. And now, even though I spend a LOT of time wishing everyone at my house (except M) would just kinda fade into oblivion, it’s pretty sweet that I partially own my own house. That’s one thing I would have plain guffawed at if I thought to add to my “things to do before 25″ list.

Sometimes I sit in the room I share with my boyfriend (check!), look around at the matching bedroom set I bought with money I earned for myself (check!) and just grin as the feeling of progress sinks in. I do the same thing in my car sometimes. It’s not so brand-new (check!) anymore, and never really as clean as it should be, but it’s mine and I’ve worked for it, and I just feel proud.

Sometimes I’m sitting at work when I receive a call from my beloved M, asking if I checked the email about a nice dining set, or I try to answer his “what should we do about the patio/bathroom floors/cabinets?” questions and I just feel like an adult. A full-blown adult with a good relationship and a house to call (partially) my own.

It’s no summer in Italy (still unchecked), but it’s the farthest I’ve been. And that my friends, feels like progress.