I usually don't recognize it when I feel unhappy. Years of "working through it" and "just ignoring it" have hampered my ability to recognize the feeling of unhappiness. Yet, today when I found myself looking for jobs in and around Portland, Oregon, and looking at houses online I realized I am indeed unhappy.
Everytime I want to escape, it's a sure sign that something's just not right in Pamelonia.
What, exactly, is wrong in Pamelonia? Oh hundreds of things, and at the same time, nothing. The hundreds of things include feeling trapped in a dead end job, being in a relationship that isn't really growing, getting older and older without any clear vision of my future (or what I'd like it to look like), a cottage that needs major rennovations (for which I have neither the time nor the money), and a general feeling of malaise.
The nothing? Well, in a lot of ways the "hundreds of things" are really just nothing. I mean, life is never perfect. There is always something to fix, to work on, to deal with. Why should I consider mere life be a reason to escape?
And yet here I am, dreaming of what it would be like to be living on the Oregon coast, in a relatively affordable house, surrounded by an ocean that spiritually feeds me and soothes me.
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
So what am I going to do about my own lawn?