(Sorry guys I'm having some feels)

“Please, this can’t be everything!”

My parents are surveying the floor of my new home, concerned at the lack of furniture. The room is cluttered with overflowing boxes and containers, and the cats are trying to worm their way inside a bag of china. I quickly shoo them so they don’t break anything.

“Yeah, we sold most of our big stuff before the move. Mostly I wanted an excuse to go shopping and get some new things.” She beams at the prospect of quality shopping time with me. Our new home is stunning – nearly 60 years old, and the previous owners took excellent care of it. The wood floors are a rich mahogany and the marble counters are beautiful. It’s small, but it’s the perfect size for me and my fiancé, who’s currently out buying groceries for dinner.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when my father embraces me. “We are so, so proud of you.” I can hear his voice break slightly, and I swallow a lump in my throat. He’s not much of a crier, but it happens at every major life stage - college, graduation, my engagement, and now this.

I hug him back tightly. “That won’t stop anytime soon,” I say, grinning at him.

Dinner is pleasant. My fiancé made salmon with vegetables tonight. He’s a superb cook, and one of the most considering and thoughtful men I’ve ever met. He even picked up a bottle of white wine and a colorful variety of tulips. I wonder how he remembers all of these little details. He says it’s because he loves me so much.

We stay up talking about plans, decorations, jobs, and everything we’re supposed to talk about. Eventually my parents hug us both, and this time it’s my mother who’s sniffling when we say our goodbyes. The smile fades from my face as soon as they're gone. I'm exhausted. I go to the bedroom and sit on the floor, sighing at the massive pieces of wood leaning against the wall. I’d insisted on assembling our bed tonight, but of course my partner had the foresight to purchase a cheap air mattress anyway since he knew I’d be tired.

I’m sitting on the floor watching him inflate the mattress. Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over, and I bite the inside of my cheek hard to try and stop them. This home is perfect. I have a wonderful fiancé who adores me, and I love him too. We both have secure jobs, no debt, and a savings. I have the love of my family and friends. Tomorrow morning, I’ll get to see the San Diego sunrise from our window. My life has everything it’s supposed to be, so I'm distressed at the feeling of malcontent that washes over me every night. It’s not usually so acute, but I chalk it up to the move.

I feel ungrateful and undeserving of the life that I have. I can’t hold back tears anymore and my fiancé kneels beside me. I don’t have to say anything; he murmurs “I know” and I lay my head on his shoulder. This isn't a new problem, we've talked about it many times. He’s so kind and patient, and I don’t know how he deals with me. He cites my creativity, my energy, my tenacity, but I know I'm hard to keep up with sometimes and I never want him to feel that he's not good enough. If I were to pack up and travel, he'd be the only one I'd take with me.

I used to play Division I sports in college. My happiness was borne from the constant challenge, both mental and physical. From the daily dose of fear that I would fail: the fear that I wouldn’t – no, couldn’t - measure up... but I'd do it anyway. From the anxiety that would bring me to tears before a race, and the almost masochistic anticipation for the pain that I knew would ultimately signify accomplishment. Each season I asked myself: “What am I doing here? Why do I do this to myself?”, and each season I returned stronger and more confident. I still practice and even compete when I have the time, but it’s not the same – the satisfaction is fleeting.

Sometimes when I go running, the thunder will rumble and the sky will be completely dark, save for occasional flashes of lightning. The rain pours, and I feel like I could run forever. Even when I’m not running, I’m chasing an elusive satisfaction that once made me feel complete as a person. I wonder if one can actually become addicted to adrenaline or endorphins, or even stress. Is that a thing and can it be fixed? Should it..? It’s a brand new flood of questions that I’m too tired to deal with. Maybe I’m just overthinking it and I’m fine.

“You should call your therapist tomorrow and find a referral,” says my fiancé after a few minutes of silence, when I’m no longer crying. I nod in agreement and I resolve to do so first thing tomorrow. I’m not ready to give up quite yet.

In the meantime, we giggle while we both watch the cats struggle to walk on the half-full mattress. I feel a surge of love for the man sitting beside me and try to ignore the bittersweet tug in my chest saying "please, this can't be everything".