So this is going to be a somewhat personal post. I'm using 
may contain definitely contains inappropriate language, but no animals were harmed in the making of this post (except for the kitten who I may have accidentally just sat on; seriously, my chair is mine. Stay off).
I'm not really a happy person. I'm not despondent, or depressed (usually), or suicidal (ever) but, just.... not happy. This is probably something of a surprise to most here who know me, who see me as flippant, irreverent, easy going, and ready with some snarky remark about almost everything. For the most part that is me, but it's also a way to shield myself from myself.
I am not even sure I have ever understood what 'happiness' is. Sure, I've had bouts of euphoria, momentarily lapses into zen (two even, this past week), but that does not equate to day to day happiness. I've seen people who are, and I am envious. Most days for me, however, are a struggle.
My moments of zen occur outside the house. Always. I do not recall ever having one within it. There are times that coming home is a burden I wish I didn't have, and I have been known to sit in the driveway dreading going inside.
I've given counsel to others before (my children in particular) and encourage them to be happy (despite that I'm not even sure I know what the term means). "You want to be happy," I assure them. "Find what makes you happy." When I turn that around, however, I find myself asking, "What right do you have to be happy? What have you done to earn it?" A long, uncomfortable internal silence usually follows.
In large part I feel like Charlie Brown; I know I should be happy, I know I have all the makings of someone who should be happy, yet, I'm not.
Over the course of the last week I lost two friendships. I made some others, but lost two. And they were two I really enjoyed. I understand why one of them went south, though it still hurts. The other just confounds me. I simply didn't see it coming. I had invited two couples and their children out for laser tag for my birthday and all were excited. One of the couples, however, simply didn't show up. No notice. No text. No apology or explanation. I mean, seriously, I understand that when you have children, any one of hundreds of things can arise to throw your entire day into disarray, and I can fully appreciate that, but at least tell me.
But nothing. Radio silence. And it continues.
Is that really what I'm worth?
This post is not a plea for sympathy. Really, it isn't. I want it to be cathartic, for me. Everyone has their own story and their own issues and their own problems, and that's why I usually keep myself quiet and go on my way being flippant and happy-go-lucky and such, despite how that sometimes feels more like a facade than the real thing. "Everyone's got problems and they've heard all mine before." (R. Davies, 1983). So I like to keep it quiet and try to focus on the good things I have. And it will work to try to keep me focused, for the most part, until something dumb happens.
Now, that said, I'm going to end on a positive.
To failed friendships: fuck'em anyway.
To new friendships: you're who I want in my life anyway.
To my boys: you're better than what you think.
To my daughter: the world is your oyster.
To me: 2020 is going to be awesome. You're going to complete your two games, get most/all of your book done, and prepare to change careers into one you'll enjoy.
To all of you still reading: you're all really fucking awesome. Don't ever stop.
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
(design by remyrequinart: https://steempeak.com/@remyrequenart)