looking out, looking in

This is what I love about reading blogs: being able to glimpse into someone's life like a tiny fly on their wallpaper. Listening to their murmered conversations and utterances of love and play. Feeling sunwarmed and grateful on the most murky northwest afternoon - knowing that the sun was shining on some faraway August day. And knowing that it will again, some day in the soonish future.

There's a flipside, of course - the feeling of drowning in my own inadequacy. Comparing my life to yours and yours and yours. Feeling like something is lacking because I don't have a dog or a house in the country or a freaking pony (insert pointless want here). It's the darkside of blog reading, if you ask me. Unveiling the disatisfaction in my own heart. Knowing that I don't lack anything except for a perfectly gathered handful of confidence. Whenever I find myself looking outside, feeling left out, left behind, empty and dark for something that someone else has (be it more children or pets or a husband that doesn't travel or a bigger house or a better body or a luxurious wardrobe or an unlimited supply of cash in my wallet)--- whatever it might be, when I am left hurting and bitter for something, I know that it isn't about them. It's never about them. Not even once. It's always always always always always about me. It means I'm not happy with me.

And no matter what, there isn't a single iota of stuff that is going to fix it.

I live a very full life. I wallow in abundance. And even knowing that, it doesn't automatically fill the deepening hole in my belly, that place where the heaping helping of confidence should be. I call it confidence but it might as well be called love or acceptance or satisfaction. It's an ineffable collection of traits that I will forever be striving to hold in my hands, to keep close to my heart, to drink in so deeply that maybe one day they will stay. And I can look out at you with clear eyes and just be happy for the abundance in your life.

Because that's what I want to do all days, every day. I want to be happy for your happiness, and sorrowful for your sorrows. I want to cheer for you with genuine affection. No matter what. Today I'm feeling lucky and gregarious: I'm feeling that swell of confidence that makes me feel truly truly grateful for me-being-me and truly truly grateful for you-being-you. I wish this feeling would stay - I know it won't. But I'm writing this down in this moment now to know that I felt it. And I'll feel it again. Maybe soon.