“I had a breakthrough for us during therapy today.”

I sat at my office desk reading my latest text. Not only did I feel grateful for friends I can talk to so openly about our therapy sessions, but also the handful of other single 30-something-year-old girlfriends who are also navigating life independently. The three dots appeared as I could see her continuing to type.

“We were so used to walking on eggshells in our past relationships, having constant drama, exhausting mental energy thinking that was normal…and now that there’s no drama, we’re mistaking that boredom for sadness.”

“WOW.” I immediately responded, along with the emoji with its head exploding.

I’ve openly shared the tumultuous season of life that, like most of us, 2020 brought on. I left my fiancé, wondered if I could handle one more thing, and then entered a phase of rage for the seemingly “unfair” things I had gone through over the course of several months. When the chaos stopped, it was like I had been drowning for months, and then all of a sudden, I was on the shore, noticing my surroundings, and wondering what had just happened. Once the wake of the wild life events settled, I too found myself mistaking my newfound boredom for sadness. I was so used to the crazy that when life cooled down, it was as if I was looking around wondering where the next shoe was about to drop.

Maybe it’s the Cancer crab in me, but I’ve always felt the healing power of the ocean. I recently took a trip to Maine. I walked along the beach on a cool, misty New England morning. I looked out at the water, the serene ocean waves were crashing, and I realised for the first time in a long time—I was okay. Not only was I okay, but I could hear however you spell the Universe, God, or my intuition telling me: “Georgia not only are you okay, but for the first time in a long time you are happy.”

I cried about it on the plane ride home feeling that for the first time, in almost a year, I was happy. Not just a fleeting moment of happiness, but an overwhelming sense of feeling grateful, joyous, and trusting that I am exactly where I am supposed to be in my life. I’ve started to feel like my old self again, but a new, stronger, and more authentic version of who I once was. I feel myself smiling more, being okay coming home to just myself, and feeling proud of building my own business where I can help other people every day.

Life as I knew it burned to the ground in 2020, and I spent the winter, spring, and summer rebuilding it. For so long, I was used to the mess, feeling sad, and having to work through my life’s events every day. In the moment of pause and time away in Maine, I reflected on how I set out to build a new life for myself. I then built the life I wanted. Now, I’m in it. I’m living it. So how about I make a concerted effort to enjoy this life?

This is not to say that my day-to-day is perfect, that I have everything figured out, or that I no longer have hours or even days of feeling sad and lonely. Rather, I made a choice to start enjoying and loving my life, despite what it throws at me. I’ve been living alone for the first time in my life since March, and my studio apartment on the top floor has become my oasis from the rest of the world. It’s the place where I feel the safest. It’s my home, my nest, and the coolest part—it’s all mine.

The bed is always made, essential oils diffusing, and if the coffee pot does not get emptied, I know that’s on me. I’ve surrounded myself with green plants, candles, and pictures of those I love. My rent is double in my apartment compared to what I paid when I lived with my ex, which on some mornings when I wake up to the light shining in, noticing the view of the mountains, I give myself a high-five of F*ck yeah girl! You afford this gorgeous place and provide this life for yourself, with no help from anyone.

I never thought I would be caught off guard with finding happiness, but I’m glad it found me again. Now, it’s time to revel in this sweet, imperfect, always evolving wild ride of life.