Posts Tagged ‘happiness’

If you read this title and your first thought was Gloria Lynne – message me, we’re meant to be best friends forever. This post isn’t a play on her song, I just wanted to let you all know I found happiness without directly typing out that “I found happiness,” because lame and uninteresting.

All emotions are rollercoasters of ups and downs, lows and highs, and finding stability amongst them is tough. Some people are emotionally intelligent enough to sort of control the up and downswings, but for most it’s a struggle. Do you remember the first time you tried jumping upward to grab the monkey bars? I was five or six before I even almost had a shot at reaching one of the bars without climbing up the cheat steps. I don’t have mad hops and I certainly didn’t when I was a midget of a child. How many times – no – how many years did it take to finally reach and be able to grab onto the bars and monkey yourself across? A lot, right? Happiness is a lot like that. Fucking trickster makes you think you’ve got it! And before you can grasp on with two hands, you’re staring straight up with dirt in your eyeballs, from your back. The millisecond when you’re finally able to grab a bar with one hand gives you this false hope that you’ve reached it, and immediately following that millisecond of happiness is pain and disappointment. Such is life – a fucking set of monkey bars. You know what, though, adult child? You’ll reach it one day and firmly grab on with both hands, and that’s where happiness lives.

monkeybar

K cool, Ross, what you’re saying is happiness is impossible to reach without being a child magician? No, Chad, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that to reach and stay attached to the monkey bars takes time and effort, practice and persistence. Your backside will be sore. Your heart will ache with underachievement. Your hands will blister. And your friends will make fun of you because they grew faster than you did.

…Why was everyone taller than me when I was a kid?

Once you’ve reached and maintained happiness, you’ll realize that the ups and downs aren’t an issue at all. They got you there. They strengthened your will, you mighty little fucker, you. And the moment you REALLY know you’ve reached it is when those let-downs arise, and they will, you’re still happy. You’ve maintained your grasp on those goddamn tetanus makers.

If you grew up without monkey bars, stop reading because you’re dumb and I hate you. But for all of the rest of Earth pre 2005, the lesson here is that let down will keep trying to find its way back into your life. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, it’ll come. But you’ve maintained. You’ve weathered. And you can handle it. I was going to bitch about a whole bunch of recent let downs, but because I don’t feel like outing those people (you know who you are, shitbags), I’d rather bask in my glory because I’m still happy. That, ladies and gentleman, is how I know I found happiness. It can’t be phased. I can’t be phased. The ups and downs will still come in droves and generally when you’re least prepared, but they won’t change my happiness – they haven’t yet.

Andddddd cue Gloria Lynne. I have this record and I sleep with it under my pillow. Is that weird? Oh.

 

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I live a life I don’t deserve. It’s beautiful even when it’s not. There seems to be an endless amount of good constantly finding its way into my life and I’ve learned not to question it. I don’t need to know why they’re present to appreciate them. I do, however, make habit of discarding them just as often as they come. Why would anyone do that? Maybe the disadvantage is the delight.

Most people struggle to find happiness or even gain a grasp on what happiness means. It’s subjective so there is no right or wrong answer, just a feeling. I’ve been handed that feeling on a silver platter. Not sure how or why, but I’m always aware of the what, when and who. The whats seem to stick around the longest, the whos never do. That brings me to my disadvantage, a strange juxtaposition I’m not sure I want to question, but will anyway because that’s what I do. (These disordered thoughts are basically a jumbled conversation in my head spread out in some sort of uniform on…paper/screen. I talk to myself. The words reply.) My disadvantage: my life is too good. There, I said it. I don’t mean that to sound pompous and shitty. No. What I mean is that because my life is so great and because there’s a constant stream of beauty in it, I become reliant on it and take advantage without appreciating what my life actually consists of. I expect it to always be good, and it always is. While that’s not necessarily a bad thing, my lack of appreciation for everything that comes my way is. I trade in dream cars for newer and faster dream cars. I trade six figure employment for higher six figure employment. I discard Armani shirts for Tom Ford suits. I replace perfect girlfriends with…other…perfect…girlfriends. And there’s my plateau. Humans. My want for something bigger and better and newer doesn’t affect possessions because they’re inanimate – they have no feeling, they don’t care what I do with them or how soon I replace them or how much attention I pay them. Humans, though, notice. They’re animate and filled with emotion and feeling and heart and soul. I love the fuck out of the human condition, but I also love that I am confident and comfortable in my own happiness. There again lays the juxtaposition – a delightful disadvantage, it seems.

What all of this rambling really means is that my life is absolutely amazing and I know at the end of each day it will continue. I’m not a billionaire. I’m not a model. I’m not a humanitarian. I’m just happy. But that ‘happiness’ is starting to deteriorate the sum of its parts. I’m not saying I’d like to be unhappy. That’d be stupid. I’m saying I love 18 year old MaCallan scotch in a Seahawk’s whiskey glass. I’m saying I let a lot of beautiful parts of my life go because I think I’ll still be happy afterward. I’m saying I push out amazing people because I know there are other amazing people to keep my life balanced. Consider Newton’s cradle: one ball hits another which sets the ball at the opposite end in motion, and the back and forth continues, equaling each other’s force, continuing in harmony. That’s my life. Picture it. That’s fucking boring. No change. Never out of line. Never off track. If one ball is removed, what happens? I wouldn’t know, I just replace them. But the replacements are lacking. They’re empty. They fill the void in the pendulum, but my heart is not a pendulum. The culmination of these beautiful messes impacts only the heart, the body remains the same.