Sometimes

Sometimes I miss the person I thought I wanted to become before I became the person I am.

I gave up panty hose and designer suits, credit card debit, and ten hour days with two to three hour commutes. I gave up dry cleaning and manicures. I had an office with a window overlooking a park in the city, and less than two blocks from the building where I worked, there was a café that served the best espresso and the most delicious spinach and feta croissants I’ve ever tasted.

I thought I wanted to be that person. The girl with the master’s degree and the two hundred dollar trips to the salon. The girl with the Beamer-driving, consultant, power suit-wearing husband with weekend Versace jeans, Rodeo Drive shopping excursions, and that almost 4,000 square-feet of materialist house that never quite felt like a home but was perfect for entertaining.

Priorities so convoluted, like that previous sentence…

But then one day we woke up and decided to change our lives.

Okay, I admit I was reluctant at first. My hubby caught on quicker than I did that life was not a race to the finish line, and he, in his infinite wisdom, saw the things that brought me joy were not of the material sort.

My best days involved writing, reading, rock climbing, and boating…

… days in the gym, Fox Trotting me around the kitchen, and sweating outside in the summer.

Did I mention he’s super observant and absolutely brilliant? I don’t know how I managed to find a man so consumed with keeping me happy, but I did, and I know I’m super lucky!

So he moved me to the place where he knew I could find joy every day.

And it was a cultural shock.

I struggled every day for a seemingly endless amount of days – I’m still struggling – to become a better person. A person who is calm and caring, relaxed and healthy. A person who doesn’t need material items to find self-worth. A person who wakes up each morning glad to be alive. A person who appreciates every moment.

But sometimes something happens, and I’m reminded of what I was, and I miss that person who had different goals and other kinds of opportunities.

So sometimes I drag out the old suit and panty hose…

… but after a day or so, I slip back into my sundress and snuggle with my man, watching the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico, and I love the life I’m living.