Yesterday I wept twice. They were the kind of breakdowns that come without warning. They’re spontaneous and there’s no controlling them. They’re your body’s natural reaction to needing release, to get out. My best friend left yesterday after a much needed visit. That’s when the first breakdown occurred. I wanted her to come back, to remind me again just how much my happiness means to her, and how much I need to find happiness again. She compared my current life to “The Devil Wears Prada,” the only difference being my real life version is less glamorous, she wears Issey Miyake, and I’m still unable to pay my student loans. I needed to hear it. I needed to hear that my unhappiness is obvious, that it’s taken over every part of me. I needed to hear that my unhappiness is justified, just as Andy Sachs’ was.
My friend needed new headshots to go along with her brilliant work, so I escaped stress for the night. It’d been too long since the last time I felt like myself. I was with the one I loved, my sister, my friend, and letting creativity exist. I search for that in any way I can lately: a new dinner recipe, baking pumpkin cookies, or researching new homemade jam recipes. I try to hold onto that piece of myself that brings me happiness.