One simple question, One very complicated answer
"Are you happy?"
"Happy?"
"Correct."
"Like with my life? Or right this second? It's a broad question. But sure....Are you?"
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This was a recent conversation I had with an acquaintance. I asked him a very simple question. One that was asked of me roughly 3 years ago. At the time I was in a relationship, had a house, a good job, I was wearing a gorgeous outfit (complete with red lipstick). I remember being taken aback by the question - "Who asks that? How rude. How forward. Who does this person think they are?" I thought for a few moments and said "yes, sure", his response "no you're not". I wanted to lunge at him. Instead I would develop a friendship and subsequent relationship with him. I really showed him didn't I?
The man who I posed the question to asked me why I asked him. I told him because I know he's not happy. I haven't known him long, in fact I don't know much more about him than basic info: name, age, occupation, hometown, so to ask him such a loaded question is considered uncouth. But I identify with sadness. Sad people can pick out other sad people. It's like a recovering alcoholic can always spot a fellow lover of the bottle. I could feel his energy, his uneasiness. I could see his sorrowful eyes when we talked. He smiles at all the right moments, dresses as he should, does all of the things he is supposed to do. Just like this girl I used to know........
The sad song on repeat, the tear inducing movie, the melancholy blanket of comfort. The internal struggle of sadness, the deepest desire to overcome it, these two things have defined my life. I identify with the desolate side of the world. I've always found comfort in anguish. I used to look for my happiness in people, places, things, this or that or what about over there? Then I stopped looking, admitted temporary defeat and let all of the bad things overwhelm me. Then one by one I addressed them - a person, a thing, an idea. What was working? What wasn't? Who still fit in my life? Who did I need to move along from? And slowly (very slowly) without me even realizing it at first, the veil of darkness started lifting.
Three years ago someone asked me if I was happy, it was impossible then for me to know the domino affect one very simple question was to have on my life. It was impossible then for me to know just how incredibly hard it was going to be for me to arrive at a genuine answer. So now I ask the question, not because I need to know the response, but because the other person does. Because sometimes it's just nice to know someone is paying attention, even if what they're looking at is something you don't want them to see. My acquaintance told me he's still looking for a lot, but is enjoying the journey. I hope that's true. I can't say I would have given the same answer - at any point really. There were many moments I drug myself along kicking and screaming, there were many moments I kept going only because I knew I couldn't stop. Never stop.
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"....are you happy?"
Yes. I am. Not the shout it from the rooftops happy, not the pee your pants happy, not the temporary jolt of adrenaline that makes me smile until my cheeks hurt happy; no, I'm the take a deep breathe in, relax my shoulders down my back, turn the corners of my mouth up ever so gently, and feel the security of who I am take over me, kind of happy. I am the kind of happy that no one else caused. I am the kind of happy no one can take away.
I will always identify with sadness, but I'm so grateful to no longer feel sad.
A melancholy blanket of sadness can in fact be turned into a security blanket of contentment.......
........a blanket of happiness.