Why I’m Happy

Happiness as defined by mainstream media is having everything. Nice cars, soft hair, a devoted partner, etc.

Today someone asked me if this was the worst week of my life. I lost my memory, woke up in an unfamiliar body with no answers as to what’s wrong or how to fix it, and on top of that I’m trying to cope with everything that has happened the last year in just a few days. So, is it the worst week of my life? Eh, probably not. He pressed the issue, listing all the reasons I should be unsatisfied with my current situation. The more he tried to convince me that I was a lost cause, a tragic story on the news, the more I saw how corrupted that point of view is.

Once he took a breath from this depressing explanation of my woes, I told him I was really glad it was raining. My comment, just strange enough to crack his false confidence, gave me an in.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, saying, “Oh. You’re one of those girls.”

Returning his laughter, I hid the power behind my words in a veil of snarkiness, “What do you mean? The kind of woman who doesn’t drag my feet place to place because trying is just so hard?” Standing up a little straighter, ” The kind of woman who looks for beauty in everything because if I held my happiness to the standard of sunny days and promotions, I would have approximately three good days in my whole life? Need I remind you that we live in Western Washington? Not liking the rain is like not having your breath disappear a little every time you’re driving through the woods and the only color you can see is green, and yet it consumes you more than any rainbow ever could.”

Sighing in absence of a rebuttal, he scoffed and walked away. The exchange got me thinking, what makes me happy? The easiest answer: seeing other people happy. A slightly longer answer: Just about everything. Let’s start with the weather. What’s not to love about rain? Or sunshine? Or snow? Or any combination/ modification of those? I mean, yeah, there’s that voice in the back of my head that says, “Ugh, but rain is cold and it sucks to drive in and the sun hurts my eyes and jeez is it snowing again? Forget going anywhere.” Sure, I guess those are all valid concerns, but what about seeing the new sprouts after it rains? or how pretty the road looks when it’s fresh and glistening from the street light’s reflection in the puddles? And I think we can agree that there is a certain energy that can only be found when it’s sunny outside. It’s the urge to eat a Popsicle, and not caring if it drips on the ground because the sprinkler your kids are running through will rinse it anyway. And snow? Set aside the adult mentality for three seconds of “how will I get to work?” Come back to that question right after you notice that every tree, every blade of grass, the roofs of your neighbor’s houses look stunning in the best kind of way.  Alright, now figure out how to get to work.

Weather is pretty easy for most of us to love, or at least tolerate. Other things in life, however, are much harder to appreciate. I grew up in a tiny town known for heavy drug use. It also has the charming small town quality of always smelling like cows (but I think that might be inevitable.) For a while when I was in high school, I needed to take public transportation from Granite Falls to Everett. anyone who knows the area knows that’s a bus ride I won’t soon forget. Everyday, I boarded and sat in the same seat in the very back. After a few weeks, people started recognizing me as a regular. A few men in particular knew who I was and where I sat and where I was going.  Day after day, I put my head phones in and started out the window. Avoid eye contact, I told my self. Things slowly got worse. I started asking for rides from family and friends as often as I could but more often than not I rode the bus.

One of these men always wore the same hat. A blue beanie from the local dollar store. He was the roundest person I’ve ever seen, not fat, just round. A perfect circle head and a perfect circle torso, like a snowman. He asked me for a copy of my bus route so that we could be “riding buddies” I told him I wasn’t okay with that but he said that he had nothing to do that day, so he could just follow me. I told myself campus security could help me if he tried to follow me into class. For a few months, this was my life. Making excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t talk to me, telling him I would call the cops,  moving seats as often as I could. The last straw for me was the day he cornered me in the back of the bus. Placing his hand on my knee I ripped my headphones out and looked around for someone to help. I live near the very last stop for that bus, so things were mostly empty. His usually high pitched voice dropped an octave or two and he pulled his face closer to mine. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” a drop of spit landed on my cheek and I felt his hand creep further up my leg. Standing abruptly, I snapped.

“I am not yours.”

Now, this situation wasn’t fun and I could easily go off about how I hate the bus and the people on it. but what good would that do? Not much. And I don’t hate the bus, in fact I met so many amazing people there who told me stories that changed my perspective on a lot of things. I learned things I never would have if it hadn’t been for this time.

Every tiny bloom, drop of rain, pine needle, and anything else that brings you joy is on your side. Don’t limit yourself to the amount of happiness the world assigns you.