Threads of Happiness

I feel my glow slipping away, fading with the summer sun. At one point in my life, fall was my favorite season and my mood would cheer at the sight of the warm-hued leaves. I first noticed the change during my second year of teaching. I attributed my lack of joy to having a difficult class of sixth graders.  I would grunt in dismay at my alarm signaling to get out of bed.  “Leaves have always been my favorite thing and I don’t even enjoy those,” I told my then-husband. I viewed happiness as something that happened to me, not something I chose. Depression and anxiety were pulling me beyond the horizon.

In the 17 years since that second year of teaching, I’ve had a son, been divorced, remarried, had a daughter, and quit teaching. I’ve worked to heal traumas through individual and couples counseling. I’ve tried and stopped different medications.  What’s helped most has been following the road signs to my own happiness. I make mental and written notes about the choices I make during times when I feel like everything is right in the world. During the spring of this year, I basked in contentment and personal growth. I spent many hours at hot yoga. I gave up alcohol for several months. I strived for connection and let others know their importance to me. I started a document of ideas for the book I wanted to write come fall when the kids would both be in school full time. I could hope, and breathe, and I was joyful.

The summer slipped through my fingers as it always does, spent in bright moments traveling and playing. I didn’t have much time for exercise, but I got by, fueled by the warm rays and long days. I felt nervous excitement for the time when my kids would return to the classroom. I would have time to write and do yoga.

I felt the first twinge of sadness with the click of the back-to-school porch photos. I kept my mind and body busy with cleaning up summer, then reintroduced yoga into my schedule, but the sadness lingered in the background. I found myself getting snippy with my kids and husband. The excitement of starting my book was replaced with anxiety and the too-familiar feeling of Not Good Enough. She’s the dirty beezy who asks me if I really have anything meaningful to contribute and why anyone would want to read my book. Fighting her is taxing and pulls me into a state of apathetic malaise. So, I started weaving a rope from the threads of happiness I had noted in spring.

Yoga, surfing, laugh-worthy text and phone conversations with the intelligent and hilarious women in my life. I added intention-setting during mediation into my morning routine, which has helped me to set the tone for my day and in our family. Mantras like, “Lead my family with love and laughter,” and “I am a beacon of joy,” have helped me more the lighthearted mom and wife I want to be. Today I remembered how much fun I have singing, so Kalea and I spent the morning raising our voices to Disney musicals and dancing through breakfast and school-day preparations.

All this to say, our happiness is a choice, but not always easy to achieve. Sometimes you have to fight for it. Running used to top my list of happy activities, and for now, it doesn’t. Pursuing happiness requires mindful, intentional awareness. I encourage you to make your own list to draw from in darkness, and to try new things to see if they surprise you. If the changing leaves aren’t bringing you joy, it’s ok to move onto to singing loudly and poorly, going for a walk, decorating hats, taking pictures of birds, or whatever quirky-ass thing sparks joy at the moment. It’s ok if you don’t feel over-the-top, laugh-out-loud giddiness; subtle, quiet delight is ok too. It takes work, but it’s worth it. 

    

So…what makes you happy?