A New Green Grass Beginning

I think I’m happy again.

I have to use the qualifier term “think” because the truth is it has been such a long time since I’ve been happy that I had forgotten what it feels like.  In fact, the feeling reminds me of a time in my life that I have been unable to look back upon with fondness.  Whether that is because my last time of happiness slid down a very sharp slope or because I was unable to bring myself to recall happiness, it’s all irrelevant now.  For a while, I wondered if I could ever be at this point again.  It took a while, but I think I’m here.

My last post, written nearly two months ago, was written on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Shortly after composing it, I retreated to my bed and broke down in prayer, begging for something new.  I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, I just wanted something to happen, and I begged and pleaded God for it.  The next morning, as I ventured into Waco to pick up supplies and in turn regain cell phone signal, my prayer was answered in the form of a voice mail from my former place of internship.  I was offered a job.

The ensuing couple weeks were a roller-coaster ride of rushing to make plans and then diving head-first into New York City homelessness.  Staying at a YMCA in a crime-ridden area, I would stare out the window at a gorgeous view of a brick wall.  Luckily, I had friends to remind me that I was in paradise, finally making something happen.  I have God to thank for getting me there, and my friends to thank for keeping me level-headed.  It’s as if, like Job in the Old Testament, I had to lose all my dreams, aspirations, self-image and self-worth before God could bless me.  I had to stop asking for what I wanted and ask God to do His thing.  It’s been an amazing blessing that His thing has been to put me where I’ve been asking all along.

I’ve been in New York for a month and a half, and I have been loving it.  Work, though not glamorous, is phenomenal compared to the temp-ing hell-hole I found myself in in Dallas.  My apartment, though a crap-hole, is *my* crap hole in a neighborhood with a lot of old charm.  Things have really been working themselves out.

I hope I can hold on to what I have found here.  I have always suffered from an extreme form of the Grass-is-Always-Greener Complex.  I have never been quick to make friends, so Friday and Saturday nights can take their toll.  But regardless of what happens, I think I’m happy again.