As much as I bitch and moan, I live a genuinely satisfying existence. I am quite content with my lot in life as it stands right now. Ideally, it’s not the best nourishment for my ego, being a grown adult and living with my parents, but we get along well and they respect my boundaries. They give me my own space — a place where I can lock myself away, watch YouTube, and write these silly little blogs. It’s a roof over my head, meals are made for me, and I don’t face constant pressure to do more with my life. This is life! It’s just that I’m not one of those ‘get stuff done’ people: the type who feels compelled to be busy all the time, just so they can look back at the day and say…Yes, I feel like I’ve accomplished a few things today. I don’t get the same deep sense of achievement I once did, though. Like I have said in older blogs, a good day for me is one where I have nothing pressing to do. I try to keep life as simple and uncluttered as possible; I don’t desire to leave the house unless it’s necessary. This is by design. It’s easy to become disillusioned scrolling through social media where it looks as if everyone is living perfect lives — married, children, steady jobs, money, busy social circles. I don’t have any of that and, truthfully, I don’t really desire to obtain those things. People only show the happy parts, rarely the darker or more tedious sides of their routines. Does no one get my drift? Am I the only one with this philosophy? I don’t have those conventional trappings and I’m content — more importantly, I’m free. I’m free to spend my days as I please, without someone else’s schedule or expectations. I don’t need a partner who wants weekend brunches or picnics with friends, or to be taken along to every child’s sporting event. I could list the many downsides to that kind of lifestyle, but there are far too many to catalogue off the top of my head; you probably get the idea. I’ve explored this at greater length in older posts. I once went off on a complete tangent writing about living at home with my folks and my brother; we get along just fine.I don’t have to do much to keep them happy.As long as my mental health is under control, I’m taking my meds as prescribed, and I keep my bedroom tidy, there aren’t any problems. After all, I was managing quite well a couple of months ago and everything seemed to be falling into place. Then my parents intervened: before I knew it they were clearing out my room and telling me I was moving back into the family house. This happened after my hospital stay when I was very ill, so here I am again—doing this at their request. You asked for it, and now you have to turn a blind eye to the way I live, or to what I call my way of surviving. Who knows what will happen in the future; maybe one day my values will shift. Maybe I’ll meet the right person, but I’m forty-three and not getting any younger. I don’t expect my outlook to change much — I’d be very surprised if it did. I enjoy my own company and the freedom I have far too much to alter that even a little. I’ve had enough relationships in the past to understand how things go; I’ve either ended them or, in some cases, sabotaged them myself. So yeah, I’m content to be home for the time being. I can save a bit of money and I have some company when I choose to emerge from my dungeon.