09 September 2010

Could it get any better?

When I was in my twenties I went through this season where I gave up on happiness. I had achieved a number of things that other people were happy about. I graduated college, had a sweet apartment, fun roommate, hot ride and a damn good job. When I was bored or lonely or feeling particularly reflective, I would take on some massive project to clean or organize.  One day, mostly likely a Saturday morning, the time when I tended to be alone and the most bored, I took to my walk-in closet. I showed it no mercy. My goal was not just an organized grouping of clothes but color coordination also. 

When I'd finished, I sat on the floor and tried to figure out why I had so much but still didn't feel happy.  And that was the moment when I gave up on happy. The best I could come up with was contentment.  And I left it. My mantra became "I am content with my life." I concluded that maybe happiness was a delusion, a false belief or if nothing else, maybe everyone didn't get to feel happy.

I wish I could remember as vividly the moment when the happiness came back. The effect of watching too many romantic dramadies is that I expect a dramatic scene where I started to see the world in color. Where I fell in love. Where the sun sets on the beach and I walked off into the distance. It was not like any of those things. There was a time I wanted to say "I am content with my life" but that was not even close to what I felt. Happy just fit better. And so I just let happy be. And happy is where I've stayed. I like it but I don't chase it.

I've graduated college (again), I have a sweet house, a fun roommate, the same ride, which is still hot, and a damn good career and I'm happy.