Crazy or Idealist?

I hate the word depressed. Truth is for the majority of my life I've taken pride in the fact that whatever setbacks big or small, I can keep moving forward.

Most recently, major milestones in my life have come to pass...
I turned thirty.
Wow.
I've said it aloud a few times in the past five months, but this may be the first time I've put it in writing.
Aside from hitting the next decade in my life, I've also been struggling with rather inconsequential things i the grand scheme of life. Never the less, the aftermath of these roadblocks have left a larger scar than I've ever noticed in my overall well being.

I walked passed a mirror in a department store the other day, and I noticed a terrifying display.
It was my face without a smile... To some it may not seem like much, but to me, it was a major bummer.
Beyond the fact that I just look more desirable while smiling... It was a sad realization that my inner feelings have somehow made their way out.

I started to take stock in my observation:
I don't laugh as often or smile as much.Which lead me down a chain of events that kept me searching for answers and asking questions to ideas I was sure I had already figured out.


Am I an unhappy person? Do my friends view me as someone who is always depressed? Is it because I'm not where I thought I'd be? Is it because I'm not sure I want the things I used to?

And my biggest fear of all:
Do you really loss your idealism slowly, silently and with certainty?When did this happen?

As I explored my feelings, I accepted many concessions.
First, that turning thirty has had a greater impact than I've let on to myself. Another, that goals and dreams that may not have been as important to me in the past, are gradually taking hold of my attention.
In the past week I've been more aware of feelings I would ordinarily turn a blind-eye to. I took note of what made me smile or laugh. How I felt while I watched a movie. How passionate I got while watching a political discussion on TV. Or how pissed off I've become at a friends unwarranted attacks.

Evaluating my day-to-day events has reminded me that at the end of each day, I am the same person I was ten, fifteen or more years ago. My hopes and prayers are the same. My struggles are very similar, despite some on a more heightened level.
I uncovered what I want, although in a different order of importance, is still very much the same.
I remembered that it comes down to my choice.
I was in church this past Sunday, (yes church...) and the priest reminded me that, 'strength comes when we need it...' We are capable of much more than we think, and sometimes need to be inspired to reinvent an idea or dream.
Equally, he continued to evoke my conviction to triumph over my current struggles with this, 'Our mothers' greatest suffering, produced what most would consider their greatest joy:
a child.'

It left me in such an inspired mood. Not to give in to my self-inflicted ageism, insecurity and fear.
The fascinating thing is, no sooner than I began to shift my sad thought into a plan of attack for getting on with my life-

I received a call that I booked a job.

I'm always amazed that no matter how long the suffering and hopelessness exists, all it takes for me to get back on the horse, is one phone call!
Does that make me crazy or just a slightly older idealist?...
Who cares, today I'm smiling!