Yesterday was my seven year anniversary in Washington. This relationship has lasted longer than any other relationship (well, romantic ones), and it’s had all the ups and downs that come with something that has lasted seven years.
Seven years. Every year when I write this post, I always say the same thing: Everyone thought I would be back within a year, nobody thought I would last out here on my own. It’s strange, but I have always cared what other people thought to an extent. Some might say that “isn’t healthy”, but if you don’t care what other people think, you’ve got bigger issues. I chose my clothes every morning knowing that I want to look nice, I brush my hair and teeth, I choose to say kind and encouraging words (usually). I care what other people think, I want to be liked and (maybe) admired for being a decent human. There is one thing I have never cared about though, and that is the opinions people have about what I am “doing with my life”.
What people think about the person I choose to date, or where I live, or where I work, or any of my dreams and goals…I don’t care. That is my line, that is where I draw it, because I know myself better than anyone else and I know what is right for me. I know what will make me the happiest, so everyone can care all they want about the superficial stuff, and I will allow that because at the end of the day: none of that is as important as what makes me feel…happy. None of this means that people don’t get to me, because they absolutely do, but when I look ahead to my future I only truly see one person there waiting. And that is myself. I need to be okay with me before other people can be okay with me.