Happiness Enchiladas

Let's be honest here. My life shouldn't be that hard.

My immediate family is all alive and around and relatively (ba-dum-ching!) healthy.

My friends are many, and mostly accessible, and enormously blessed at this time in their lives.

I'm going to, and haven't been kicked out of, and am almost finished with that institution of higher learning known as college. I'm healthy. I have opportunities to grow and to help others grow. I'm flourishing. I'm happy.

Despite how swimmingly it goes, for some reason my life is still challenging.

Life isn't meant to be easy. Life is meant to be hard. Seems like once we admit life is hard, it should become easy. But nope. Life is still hard.

Just now I'm facing a series of personal tasks that are all a) difficult, b) difficult and unlikely, or c) difficult and possibly impossible.

It's a bit disheartening, really.

One of the reasons I'm fond of theatre is because theatre has scripts. I learn a script, I know what's coming, I know what I'm supposed to do. It's comfortable.

In real life, I don't always know what's coming, and I don't always know what I'm supposed to do. It's the opposite of comfortable. It stretches me. And stresses me.

I'd often like to curl up in my closet and refuse to come out. Or spend the rest of my life eating Chinese takeout and watching episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender on repeat. That would make me reasonably happy. Unfortunately, I'm not okay with reasonably happy. I want the whole happiness enchilada.

Happiness enchiladas do not come to a girl who is hyperventilating in her bedroom closet. Happiness enchiladas come to a girl who moves forward not knowing what's going to happen, but carrying the faith that she will be guided and directed and blessed every step of the way.

Bring it on.