Since Dave retired last October, we’ve spent the great majority of every day together. Dave has commented that I will get tired of him being home all the time.
Not a chance.
Just having him home is a delight for me. I’ll be washing dishes after we’ve eaten and I will be struck with such a wave of contentment and happiness I just want to burst in an explosion of joyful sparkles.
But then the fearful side of my being starts thinking, “But you are only happy because you have him. Your life is only this good because of him. If anything happens to your beloved, happiness will abandon you for good.”
Friends of mine have experienced my greatest nightmare, and survived. They’ve even been happy again. Some people I know have lost children, and THAT loss is just beyond my ability to fathom. I feel like if this sweet, happy bubble I exist in pops, I will collapse, never to recover.
I can honestly say I’ve never been given more than I can handle, and what challenges I’ve experienced and survived have strengthened me (the whole “what doesn’t kill you–” thing). So whenever the fearful voice whispers all the “what-ifs” to me, I tell it to shut up–I’m not worrying about the unknown circumstances hidden in the future when all I have right now is this present moment of happiness I am so thankful for.