I wonder sometimes, lately, why I’m not happy.
I know I have a bad form of cancer. I’m in treatment and it’s making me feel awful but…
Why am less happy than I was before I had cancer?
Drugs? A shorter lifespan than I thought I’d have? A wish for things I don’t have? Can’t have? Shouldn’t have?
What have I done that I have lost my capacity for happiness?
I have conquered adversity in my past. I may have been unhappy, but I got over it. Eventually. And somehow I always knew, at my saddest and most desparate, that I would. I embraced sadness and unhappiness because they are part of life. Part of being happy.
I have lived a full life without asking for more than I can usefully have. I never wanted fame, fortune, beauty or a towering intellectual genius. I wanted peace, friends and family around me. I wanted to go dancing, cook better, draw better, and sing better.. Even sad songs made me happy. Hearing Bonnie Raitt sing ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’, which is a terribly sad song and makes me remember a sad time in my life, made me happy. I learned so much when that song made me cry every time I heard it.
Cooking made me happy, friends all talking to each other, playing a game, sitting in a pub, sketching something…writing.
These are the things that created flow for me. The things that I could lose myself in.
But I’ve lost something that has nothing to do with my health. I’ve lost my happiness.
There are sick people in this world who have happiness. Why am I not happy?
My brothers are here to visit. They’ve brought all the kids and the wives. The house is full. Uncle Dave came too. And I am not happy. I’m tired and feel harassed and bored. I want to be alone. That’s not right.
There’s a devil in me. There’s something that’s wrong and it’s not cancer. It’s my ability to reach out and feel the happiness that was always at my fingertips. It’s my joy when I saw happy people. It’s vanished. When I read your blogs and comments, happiness was at my fingertips. A challenge made me happy. Cats made me happy. Dogs…music…there is so much to be happy about. And I have lost it…it seems as if I expected that it would always be there to grasp. I wait patiently. It will come back, won’t it? It always has. A small push in the right direction and it will come back. Of course it will…
But it seems that I was wrong. Happiness must be pursued. Ha. The Benjamin Franklin quote. The Constitution of the USA guarantees the pursuit of happiness, but you still have to go out and catch it.
So here’s the thing…I have been sitting here for the past 6 months, waiting for the moth wing brush of happiness to touch me again. Since it hasn’t, I am going to find it. I am not waiting any longer. Not wasting any more time hoping it will come back.
I am angry in a way. My little niece, Momoko, was here and I couldn’t be really happy. My nephews, my brothers and sisters…oh, I was mad. How can I be unhappy when I am surrounded my family. By the best food and drinks, by dogs and friends, vacation time?
I deserve to be happy. To hell with this fog. This gray, blah feeling. This irritation and desire to be alone.
‘Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive, I want to wreck my stockings in some junk joint dive…’ Thank you Joni Mitchell.
Yes. There is a way. I can fix this. One thing I can do is participate. In something. In anything. In something outside of myself. There is a way back from this. I’m going to find it. I am going to start blogging again regularly. I’m going to write again and listen to music and I’m going to walk in the rain. I’m going to listen to music again and shake this gray out of my life.
I WILL find happiness. Even if it means taking a selfie where I look as if someone is pointing a gun at me and I’m not sure if it’s a real gun. I want to just lie down and read a book or watch a movie and eat dinner and not think but…that is not the way to happiness.
I have to get up and find it. It’s there.