The one about happiness
“Are you happy?” she asked me. I was already fidgeting as she pointed out how nervous and uncomfortable I looked. She had already mentioned multiple times in joking frustration how I was a completely different person than the one she met. It was an uncomfortable situation; one I had never really been in. This was one of those conversations where neither one of us had anything left to lose; no personas left to be but ourselves.
“No…” I fumbled for words as her face started to look distraught, “I don’t remember the last time I was truly happy.” That’s when I realized that I was doing a terrible job at comforting her, but I was no longer speaking with her. She had become a spectator in a conversation with myself, one that I had been putting off for quite some time.
Her idea of happiness was “to be with someone I love. Have enough money to travel the world and experience everything it has to offer. No kids and a fulfilling career.” Motherfucker; she was perfect. And yet, that wasn’t enough for me. I had that exact dream until the moment she said it. Maybe I needed to hear it out loud from someone else but that idea of happiness suddenly felt empty.
I immediately thought of some of my happiest days — they were all with my family. When I think of being happy, truly happy, I think of Sundays barbequing with my family. Spending long summers at the beach with my cousins. Learning to bake cookies from my mom, grandma, and great grandma. Happiness wasn’t about how many things I had or my status in life but people sharing their love with me.
I’ve tried finding happiness in other places. I went to a major university with an awesome mass communications curriculum and a top ranked football team. I pursued a career in advertising because that seemed like a cool lifestyle. I landed a job straight out of college earning a six-figure income. I even bought two fucking sports cars all before turning 27. I would have been stoked to be me when I was a kid. And yet, none of these things made me happy.
The truth is, I don’t want to be happy. Not if it means that this is as good as it gets. Happiness shouldn’t be a destination, you should find joy in the pursuit of it. Maybe I’m finally starting to grow up but I want more than a fun job, more than traveling, sports cars, or a hot girlfriend that still jams to Taking Back Sunday. I want to be able to find happiness within myself.
It’s easy to place your happiness in things; in other people. But it’s unrealistic to ask someone else to make you happy, to demand them to find a reason for you to be happy. Your happiness is yours to find and share with those you love. It’s a journey that nobody can take for you.
No, I’m not happy. But that’s okay because realizing that truth is the only way to correct course; to embark in a new journey that gets me closer to that happiness.