Meh! Who wants to be happy anyway?

The other day, a friend sent me a text saying he didn’t think I seem that happy.

It pissed me off! How dare this guy I’ve known for five months question my happiness! Who the hell does he think he is? That was the toned down version of what I was thinking. My sister doesn’t appreciate it when I cuss. Sorry, Kelly. New York brings the four-letter words rolling out.

Once I texted four friends, called my sister and made an appointment with my therapist, I felt better. But I also realized he wasn’t wrong exactly.

I’m not happy today. In fact, I’ve kinda felt like sobbing the last couple of days. It’s been a rough week. Everything seems to be happening (or not happening) all at once and that’s hard. But I can handle it. None of these things – even all piled up – is enough to break me. I’ve got this. I’ll find a place to live. I’ll find a job I’m excited to go to every morning. I’ll stop feeling bad about breaking The Boy’s heart and my room will stop smelling like the Hudson River I hope. Life ebbs and flows. Smiles come and go. It’s cool.

In fact, is anyone really happy? I was trying to think of the happiest person I know. My friend Pam was the first to pop in my head. She always seems cheery, even when she’s up and working at 5 a.m. But she’s admitted to me that she isn’t happy all the time (sorry, Pam, I blew your cover. I told everyone your secret.)

My nephew, Adam, is a happy guy. I actually don’t know that I’ve ever seen him really upset. Not to undermine his ability to be happy, but little dude is 3 years old. Life isn’t too stressful at age 3. He’s got a table of trains, a collection of puzzles, a PB&J maker at the ready and a couple people to tell him they love him when they tuck him into bed at night. What more can a guy ask for?

So I guess I’m OK if I’m not a Pollyanna every day. I met a guy at a wedding once who was so over-the-top happy it made me sick. As we were watching the bride and groom open their gifts (it was a small, destination wedding), he was oohing and ahhing over everything. “Oh! An immersion blender! How wonderful. You’ll use that all the time. What a thoughtful gift, you guys! … Oh, an elephant statue. I love it. It’s the perfect shade of gray … Ahh! A framed wedding invitation. That will look fantastic on your fireplace mantle. How nice.”

My then-beau and I were snickering in the corner and mocked Happy Man for years after that. “Ohh! What a wonderful sweater! It has so many colors. It’ll match everything, and you’ll look like Bill Cosby. Wonderful!”

Now I’m laughing at Happy Man. I must be back to happy.

Published by Candace

I’m a journalist, nutritionist, doting auntie, one-time bobsledder, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.

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