I live in a room.
One room with four people, and all I own.
I often dream of a life which is no longer, where we lived in a big, beautiful, orange house, where we lived large off loans and we knew as soon as school was done we'd be rolling in the dough.
Turns out the dough needs to be left to rise for a while.
Living in a single room can get you down.
Last night I went to a meeting. A meeting with strangers. Strangers that had one thing in common. And, for a few hours I realized that this place that I'm in right now might be different from where I came, but it can be wonderful too. I drove home and had that warm fuzzy feeling inside, which is such a nice feeling to feel, if you ask me.
I turned 30 this week, which, by the way, I got to much quicker than I thought I should. I've become much more mature, since turning 30. In my new found maturity I've decided that I would rather feel warm fuzzy feelings to most other feelings: like I said, it is such a nice feeling to feel.
What made the meeting I went to so wonderful? It was a meeting of mothers who breastfeed. A support group, if you will.
(Why in the world do breastfeeding mothers need a support group? Well, we're a minority, we are. Only fourteen percent of women breastfeed to six months. I never stop breastfeeding.)
So, together we gather, to talk about things that are important. Last night, I realized that I like being with women who feel the same way I do. I felt accepted and loved.
So, I'm going to do more things that make me feel that way. I'm going to make this place my home. I'm going to ride horses with friends. I'm going to explore the city I grew up in with my family. I'm going to help people. I'm going to make myself busy.
I'm going to spend less time in my room.
I think I'm going to like being 30.