I know why... Success has never been my end game. If I recall from my journals, it has always been the "the purpose of my existence."
And so, I have achieved my goal. I believe that is success by itself.
Yes, it sounds that I have hangups about success and all of it; that's because my parents think I am a failure. It hurts. But then, it is okay. I have insisted on my version of a successful life.
My little family is my success.
The purpose of my existence is love –– to love my husband; to love my son; to love myself as a full-time mother and wife.
The acceptance of my present reality has taken so much toll on me, that I gain a lot of weight. I have drunk countless glasses of depression cocktails with misery as my company. I have been into slavery of the idea of me, in which is long gone –– that cool, calm, carefree, even careless me.
I am okay now. I believe so. I am content.
Happy 2021!
seaCielo