I’m fascinated with what brings people joy, or what I like to call, the Universal Search for Happiness. There are scads of movies about finding it, exhaustive studies that attempt to define it, experts that instruct how to feel it, and umpteen songs and books that describe it.
Don’t you want it too – that feeling of weightless bliss that curls your toes and tingles your insides? That “thing” that makes you grin and giggle and glow?
“I only want you to be happy,” says the mother to the child.
“I’ll give you a lifetime of happiness,” say the lover to his mate.
“I’m tired of drama. I just want to be happy,” says the widower looking for love.
I’ve felt and experienced happiness. I’ve reveled and marveled in its power. I adore those scintillating moments of elation whenever they occur, and bask in the warm and fuzziness of it all. And while I am the first to recognize how wonderful it would be to exist in a heightened state of pure elation, I am also well-familiar with the pesky but unavoidable universal truth that always gets in the way: happy doesn’t last. Continue reading
My written words almost died. They were still taking up space in my head, mind you, just muddling around in a stew of dense, colorless gunk. But they were lifeless. Suffocated. Submerged.
My words finally came back. It’s about time.
One year ago, as my alphabet and punctuation marks became increasingly limp and useless – just stubbornly waiting to stand up and be recognized – I made a big, jumping-off-a-cliff change in my life that was more terrifying than anything I’ve ever done before. It was also enormously painful and endlessly paralyzing. There were countless days when I wondered if I’d survive. But this is what happens when you choose to end 19 years of marriage.
Oh, I spoke. I vomited stories and descriptions and emotion. I spewed out memories and realizations, exclamations and thoughts, disappointments and hurt. I conversed and shared, reflected and screamed. I whispered, sputtered and sorted out the madness and anger as depression hovered. I sought refuge in the friends and relatives who saved me, who encouraged and nurtured this oral purging that I so desperately needed. Yes, my spoken words were fine. Just fine. Continue reading