Happy.

It's odd. Tonight I had a house full of people. I can remember a time in my life when that idea would have filled me with an unholy terror, and the reality was unthinkable. I remember a time when I would have been crazed thinking about how they must be judging my house, and my things, and me. I remember a time when I would never have worn the tank top and cargo pants I wore tonight, and when I would have had a fit over the fact that I did not have time to do my hair, or that I did not have makeup on to my satisfaction. I remember a time when not getting the frosting made for my cake would have been sufficient to send me into a dark depression that would have lasted for days and ruined the party I had been so excited about, and then I would have spent weeks in self-flagellation over not throwing the perfect party AND being so upset about it. Flagellation for flagellating.

None of those things happened.

The party wasn't perfect. My hair wasn't done, and when the first guest showed up it wasn't even dry. Several major items on the "to do before the party" list didn't get done. There was no frosting on the cake.

But there was no stress. I had fun. I wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. There is no dark depression, and the self-flagellation seems to be on permanent hold.

I think I am happy.

Amazing.