Well, hello there blogosphere. I apologize for my neglect, and for my abrupt departure. I was, well, busy. And now, I am, well, busier. But I am also a little less filled. Truth is, the last time I blogged, I was the happiest I've ever been. I was "studying" abroad in London, and in love for the first time. With London, that is. I was positively smitten with each adventure and each passing day that I spent abroad in Europe. But unfortunately, that's what all of the days did--they passed. One by one each joyful moment disappeared in front of my eyes, and before I knew it, I was back home in Pittsburgh. I was awoken from the dream. Truth is, if I didn't have the pictures, the souvenirs, the countless scarves, the Facebook albums, or the special moments etched into my very memory, then I don't think I would believe it all happened. Because, it was too blissful to be true. Too perfect to be mine.
This past June I revisited Europe, Italy to be exact, on a girls-only family vaca with some of my very favorite people. As I floated along the Grand Canal in Venice, sipped the sweet Tuscan wine, and tossed a penny into the breathtaking Trevi Fountain of Rome, I found myself with that same ear-to-ear smile I'd been missing. I found my bliss again. I recognized its familiarity. I basked in its return. And, I filled myself up with even more of it in every bite of pizza and every lick of gelato. But, after ten blissfully-filled-floating-on-air kind of days, I had to leave it all behind. I traded in my bliss for a plane ticket home, and physically felt each fabulous Italian morsel leave my body, my heart. And again, I was a little less full. I was a little more empty. Left with only the gelato morsels resting on my hips and thighs to let me know it was all real.
Because I actually felt the loss of that bliss, that happiness, I began to think about what else I could do to fill its void. And suddenly I realized, "Kate, you're being ridiculous. You're blessed. You have joy and bliss and happiness surrounding you daily and you don't even notice it half of the time." I felt ungrateful. I felt selfish. So, it hit me. The need to recognize it. To truly acknowledge my bliss, the little things each day that brings me happiness. I kind of let this thought marinate with me for the rest of the summer. Then, last week on my drive home from work I decided to actually name things out loud that made me happy. My first step in recognition, I thought. But, the first thing out of my mouth was, "Well I know that this traffic DOESN'T make me happy.." How crazy is that? I wanted to physically slap my own wrist. It was word vomit, but nonetheless, it came from somewhere deep inside of me. Some part of me jumped at the opportunity to vent all of the unhappy things, rather than recognize the happy parts of my life.
So my need to recognize it deepened. And that's where this idea evolved from. To blog, each day (err, try to), and name the one thing, the one small morsel of bliss I encountered that day. For instance, the other day I went home after work, changed into sweat pants and hideous but warm pink furry socks. I turned on some Adele, threw my hair in a bun, poured a glass of wine, and cooked myself dinner. And there it was--fulfillment. Bliss. I recognized then, in that moment in my kitchen, that it's that simple. Sure, I felt a bit like a 35-year-old spinster (think Jennifer Lopez in the Wedding Planner), but I was filled again nonetheless. And it was blissful. But most importantly, it was easy. It didn't involve an expensive plane ticket, fresh pesto pasta, or gorgeous Italian Stallions.
It was just me, doing something for myself. Being comfortable. Allowing myself to be happy. Swimming in bliss. And it was wonderful. I was happy, but even better than happy, I was content. Because above all else, that's what I am in search of--contentment. I think if you are content with your life, then most aspects of it must be happy, and you must be satisfied. Fulfilled. So that spinster-style night of Adele, furry pink socks, wine, and utter bliss? Yeah, that night I lay in bed thinking that the Rolling Stones were total fools. I can get my satisfaction. And you can get yours, too. All you have to do is recognize it.
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