When I first started this blog, I promised myself, and you, that I would keep it real. I try to make sure each and every post is authentic and honest. Because I do this for fun, so why write things I don't believe in? But falling into the comparison game is easy, and I sometimes get sucked in into wanting more. More things, more money, more more more.
I went through a bit of an existential crisis this week. I asked my husband, now that our early years as a couple are behind us, that we are married and have a beautiful child together, are there still some great joys ahead of us?
He replied, yes of course. I looked at him expectantly. Please elaborate. Do you think we'd feel those feelings if we bought a bigger house? More things? Luxurious goods? No, we both agreed.
So what? What would make us feel like we are deliriously happy, small and giant, completely alive again?
Travel. We both said it at the same time. It's the one thing that we really want, and it's not something you can hold in your hands.
We used to be so happy with so little. So why do I sometimes think a designer bag and more clothes would make me happier? Money can definitely make life comfortable to a certain extent. Some money is necessary to travel.
But material things, while sometimes nice to have, won't make me - or you - happier.
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