growing up money was scarce. didn't have much. not poverty stricken. poor. in between finishing school at 3:30pm to dinner time at 6 there was no food to eat and i felt starving by dinner time. in high school i had one pair of pants to wear. had to wear them every day 5 days a week, wash them on the weekend and wear them for another 5 days. hated having so little. couldn't wait to grow up and be rich.
worked as soon as i was old enough to get a job and saved up money, had money to buy things, felt better about not being poor any more. liked the independence and didn't care that i gave up much of my social life to work and save up money.
having money was all i cared about since i thought it would buy happiness.
it doesn't by happiness. now i've got money. a fine car. large house with all the trappings. great job, work for myself. fine looking man who travels a lot so i have my own time, my own space, yet he is there to lean on. life is good. i'm living the dream. people see my world and know i've landed on my feet.
and yet i don't feel happy. i don't feel satisfied. yeah sure there is comfort in not having to worry about if i can afford food, insurance, bills. i've rolled in the gutter before trying to make ends meet, trying to scrap together enough funds to feed myself and keep a roof over my head. life wasn't always this carefree. and still i don't feel content. don't feel fulfilled.
in fact i feel the opposite. i feel lost in a plastic world i've created and can't escape. even if i could escape i don't even know what or where it is i want to escape to. there is nothing tangible in my world, nothing to reach towards that says *happiness*
i should feel happy yet i feel miserable and can't fathom why? what is missing? where is this elusive happiness and why didn't money buy it for me?
From what I can gather from this post is:
ReplyDeleteHappiness is not from what has been achieved its from achieving.
(J. Francis)
thank you my friend :-)
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