~ Happy or Content? Some thoughts on life… ~

“You can be happy but you’ll never be content.”

It’s something my mother once said to me, a little saying passed on from her own mother. I was debating pieces of my life when Mom first told that to me. It was before college and before my whole life changed. I didn’t know what it meant and she didn’t tell me. She just said it with that knowing smile mothers get when she tells you something she knows you won’t figure out for some years to come.

College came and went. Those two years were the best two years of my life, and the more I live out in the big old world the more I come to see what my mother meant when she said that. I am happy where I am at right now. Comfortable little community journalism job in an oceanfront town on the West Coast. Marrying an amazing man. In the process of buying a house. There isn’t a lot wrong in my life right now.

But show me a human being who is ever completely content? I’ve written before about that “something more” I keep seeking in my life. I know my something more is out here on the West Coast.  There has never been a doubt about it. I belong by the ocean the way a pirate belongs at sea. It’s entrenched in the soul the graceful way in which blue-green waves close in around your feet in the sand, as casual of knowledge as the moon every night even when it’s cloudy out.

We are all fragments of what we want our lives to be; pieces of dreams that never came true and simple souls trying to make it through every day. Happiness is sometimes a luxury in a world where we can end up drowning instead of swimming. That means being content is rare. Perhaps I`ll be searching forever for my something more, and perhaps it is just a matter of settling down and accepting my life as what it’s supposed to be. Do we reach too far? It’s hard to say.

What I do know is that I have never been content. I don’t know anyone who has. I know friends who want to fall in love when they’re single and want to be single when they fall in love. I know people who do as they are obligated and accept it as what their life is supposed to be but they aren’t quite content with the acceptance.  I know people who love their jobs but their personal lives are in shambles and people who enjoy their personal lives but can’t hold a job.

The truth is, happiness and being content is a personal measurement. It isn’t a science and there is no instant fix for dissatisfaction. Community journalism tends to bore me. But I know (or at least I speculate) if I keep at it for a year or two, then I can move on to a bigger city with some experience and maybe find some of that contentment mother once told me about. Find a crime journalism job. Buy a bigger house near the ocean. All in time.

And the truth is, I know I will not be completely content with my career until it means I am a full-time author. Every author says it. Every author wants it. Not every author works towards it as passionately as others. I made a vow last year that I would and I intend to keep to that vow. I started a self-publishing journey. I will continue it. And one day, I will be a full time writer. Even if I don’t make millions, a comfortable little living would make me happy. Maybe even content.