I Would Rather Be In Bed

Happiness.

It’s such an odd thing.

Such a weird, fickle, terrifying thing, really. We spend our whole lives hunting it down like it’s the answer to everything. Essentially, it is. Isn’t that the true purpose of this one life we are given on this big blue ball floating around the galaxy? Eh, perhaps. I’m sure in the mountains of some far off lands between minds far greater than mine discussions of such matters take place.

I believe, however, as our exhausted heads land on our pillows every night and we put down the phones in our hands where everyone posts their charades of happiness and hides their struggles behind the curtains, we all sigh. Hoping, wishing, praying…for that feeling. The warm glow of happiness that fills up your chest and makes you feel light, even puts a smile on your face that you can’t quite get rid of.

Here’s the problem.

There are those in this world who have been blessed with a charmed life. I am happy for those people, I am beyond delighted that struggle has never been part of their life story. That in every chapter of their book the plot has played out perfectly as it was intended and no villain has come along to foul things up. They set the standard for a storybook life, do they not?

Not many of us are so lucky. We all have our struggles and our little tragic side stories. Who sets the scale? I don’t know. Just because she suffered worse than him doesn’t cancel out his suffering. It’s not a competition. Life is hard enough, let’s quit trying to outrun each other on the who has had it worse course, shall we? We are all just trying to make it to the finish line. To the goal. To happiness.

We see those people with those storybook lives, and we want it, but it seems so far away. So alien. There’s no way that could ever happen for me. It’s not possible. Once everything that can go wrong…has gone wrong, that mentality sticks with you. You never expect any good because you know, inevitably, the odds are stacked against you. You drew the short straw somewhere and you’re just stuck with it. Good things don’t happen to you. Happiness, it isn’t in your deck.

Then, it happens. One…tiny, infinitesimal glimmer.

Ah, no big deal. This has happened before. Things are good for a while but invariably, give it a few weeks, the facade will fall and the truth will emerge. This false happiness is just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Another way to kick you before you get too high off the ground.

But…a few weeks pass and still the feeling sticks around. The good things. Now, suspicious. What could possibly be happening? You try and push it away before your hopes get too high and it has a chance to destroy you. Self destruct. We humans are delightful creatures. More often the tools of our own discontent than not. See what being intelligent has done to us? Absolutely nothing useful besides maybe given us Netflix and ice cream.

If we are lucky and manage to not destroy the one little bit of happiness we have finally managed to attain in this wasteland of life…finally, in all our guarded hearts and minds, we accept. We accept that maybe, just maybe, we have been dealt enough shit hands that we finally have a royal flush. Something to sit at the table and be all in with. No poker face, no holds barred, just all in. Hands shaking, sweating, scared to death but smiling…all in.

Because this time…that happiness, that’s yours. It’s real, and it isn’t going away. Hold on with both hands and have some faith that it’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be more than okay.

It’s going to be amazing.