Happiness

This topic has been done to death, but I've been thinking a lot about it lately. In my life, it seems that my happiness has always been negatively correlated with my financial stability. That sounds completely backwards, but bear with me. When I was in college I would only get worried when my bank account dropped below about $30. I was working two or three jobs through most of college, and I managed to have gas money and a little to spend on my hobbies (I tore it up at the $1 a yard fabric table), but that was it. It was plenty. I had a place to sleep, food to eat, and could take care of most of my immediate needs. Sure, I was heading deeper and deeper in student loan debt, but that was completely out of my life scope at the time. I was completely and absurdly content with my life as a student.

Upon graduation, I started a job as an analyst/consultant. It started out pretty awesome, but less than a year in to it I spiraled into depression from bad managers and the grind of a daily desk job. I was financially stable, making more money than I knew what to do with (well, "put it in savings and pay off loans" is what I did with it), and miserable out of my skull. The next three years were spent gearing up for my teaching career, which is still my passion, my calling, my heart, and my soul. I loved it, even when I came home angry and upset, I wanted to go to work every day. Working with kids, teaching kids, whether rock climbing or math or horseback riding fills up my heart like nothing else.

Unfortunately, it's really hard to survive while underemployed and going solo. By the end of my first year through a teacher credentialing program, I had hit financial rock bottom. I was out of savings and out of time. I had to leave my heart and soul behind to be able to pay bills. I dusted off my resume, said an awful lot of pretty things, and landed myself another analyst job where I can see my old building out my new window.

Being financially stable has its benefits, certainly. I was able to help out a couple friends who were hard up finding a stable and affordable place to live. My boyfriend and I could have easily lived on our own for much lower rent than we're paying now, but we decided it was worth more to us to help our friends. I've been paying off student and car loans, have paid off all the credit card debt I wracked up during my last few months working in education, and managed to work out a budget that kept us solvent even after my boyfriend was laid off in September. We are stable. Not flush, not able to be extravagant, but stable. It's a very comforting feeling, but it's also hollow.

I can do analysis. I'm even quite good at it at times. And I am very, very grateful to have a job at all and enjoy the privileges my life experiences and choices have lent me. I am also not happy any more. I have moments, of course. Moments with friends, moments with my boyfriend (every moment with my boyfriend, in fact), going to concerts, sewing and crafting, good times to enjoy and relish. The over-arching sense of how much I love my life had dwindled down to a dull glow instead of the raging inferno it had been for years. That inferno is beyond my reach right now no matter how much I appreciate the little things and focus on the good. My philosophy on life is "live for the future, but in the present". Right now the present is something I have to deal with until I can get to the future. My other life philosophy? "This, too, shall pass."

Edit: After writing this and thinking about it for a few days, I have found my inspiration, and I am feeling much better. The present is what I make of it, and the future is what opportunities I face. I have found my present to live in, gratefully and passionately.