A very unfamiliar thought has been appearing in my mind recently.
I am happy.
When that thought comes into my head, I’m frankly unsettled. Maybe because the feeling or thought isn’t associated with anything in particular, and it’s more about a state of being. It’s not that I’m happy about the fact that I got free head shots taken today at Cannery Row (although I did) or that I ate really good pepper and tomato soup. It’s just the thought I get when I’m sitting in a chair on my front porch, and I see how the trees in our yard have filled out with beautiful, thick greenery in a matter of a few rains. I have this bizarre thought when I am laying next to my husband in bed, ready to fall asleep, and I can feel him breathing next to me. I have this thought when I contemplate the fact that I have a lot of freedom and free time in my life now (comparatively), and I have more choices about what I spend my time doing. I think, so this is what being happy feels like, and I realize that maybe I am just now approaching a place where I give myself permission to experience this feeling. I don’t know much about it. I’ve not been happy on the inside much, or a happy that’s not related to how well things are going for me. Usually when I get too happy, I try to shoot it down with one of my negativity darts. Safer that way.
In this manner, of course I can quickly dispel the happies by thinking about things like our debt. But I don’t want to dwell on those things more than I have to. I guess I realize the value of choosing mental battles. I want to give myself a chance at being happy, which is a lot trickier and more elusive for me than you would believe, if you have been happy more often than not in your life.
Sneaky little feelings of happiness are all I can ask for these days.
