An Inspiring Story of Courage

Once upon a time, there was a girl who needed to make a phone call for her work. She was not a girl who liked to make phone calls to unknown entities to begin with, and this phone call was to one of the scariest entities in all the land: a nun. It was scary because a few months earlier, she had written a difficult and demanding manuscript for some nuns, and they had scorned it, snatched it away, and sighed that they would just have to do it themselves.

The girl really did not want to make this phone call. She hemmed and hawed, she puttered and procrastinated. Procrastinating made her feel miserable. She talked it over with some friends. They agreed that she had good reason to fear the phone call to the scary nuns. They agreed that procrastinating tends to make one feel miserable and only serves to prolong anxiety. Everyone was in agreement. But this did not change the fact that she had to place the call, and reeeeallly didn't want to.

She pondered and fretted. She knew with her mind that what she needed was courage. She thought of something Wilma Mankiller had said, that the difference between a cow and a buffalo is that buffalo run toward a gathering storm rather than away from it, and therefore get through it faster. She knew that she should be like the buffalo.

But how? How does one muster courage? How does one become like the buffalo?

The girl Googled "facing your fear". She found some advice that told her to think about the benefits of doing the thing she was afraid. She thought about how it would feel to have placed the call - she would feel light, free, un-guilty, confident, peaceful. She asked herself, is this something you are willing to do for yourself? Are you willing to fight for this reward? Yes, she decided.

She gathered the phone number. She dialed it quickly so that she wouldn't have a chance to hang up before it rang. It rang. The nun wasn't there. She left a voicemail.

She felt relieved. The burden was lifted, for now. She could move forward. She felt strong and determined. She lived happyishly ever after. At least until the next phone call.

The End

Dissapointment, Malaise, and Pulling Myself Out of It (Again)

I was in an inexplicable slump the past few days. It's harder to write here (or at all) when I'm feeling down. My spiritual advisor Leslie suggested the word inertia. All I wanted to do is get under the covers and watch many back to back episodes of Intervention on the internet.

It might've had to do with the news that Spangles and I didn't get the apartment we applied for. Of course, I dealt with it maturely and moved on quickly, except maybe I didn't, and what was inexplicable was actually my disappointment sneaking to the surface anyway. As much as I wanted to roll with the punches, the news touched a tender spot for me: the fear that even if you work and plan for a desirable life/future, forces beyond your control will eventually use your hopes and dreams as a port-a-potty. So why even try? (Thus, the mouldering dishes in the sink, the tsunami of clothes strewn carelessly about the apartment, the half-hearted and not very successful attempts at, you know, doing anything.)

I know I have to fight this inclination. I have to talk myself out of it, say "Listen, disappointments come but great apartments are plentiful and the great life you imagined in this one didn't come from the apartment, it came from you." I'm also sort of toying with the belief that life is unfurling according to a higher logic that I can't necessarily understand from my vantage point but ultimately makes things work out OK. It's a comforting thought, but I really don't know if I believe it or not.

When I feel myself get down I also get panicky, because I'm like "oh no happinessFAIL" and I have a really hard time tolerating it and reminding myself of what I really do know, that I won't be stuck there forever. That's the problem, my panic makes my mind slow and I can't remember to do the things I know to do.

Finally I did, though. I called The Twin, and she told me to just accomplish one productive thing, because that usually makes you feel in control of the universe again. I walked my rent check over and it did in fact make me feel like at least a minimally effective human being. I took a shower. Then Spangles called and said F-Money and friends were grilling, and you know I was in a bad place because I didn't even really feel like going. The Twin convinced me, however, to put on civilian clothes and a little makeup and get out there anyway. Fake it till you make it, as they say.

And then I remembered my cache of inspirational books, and grabbed one to read on the trolley. I opened it up to a page where they author was basically like "Hey, you think nobody ever has bad days, gets scattered, makes mistakes? You think everyone else has it all together? 'Cause they don't. We're all perfectly imperfect, all the time." And I did that old familiar inner forehead slap and some of the pressure eased.

And then at F-Money's I drank sun tea and talked of other things, and by the time dark had fallen and the tiki torches were lit and we had supped and drank wine, the panic had slipped away completely.

And a lovely coincidence also helped me. Several months ago, as I was crawling out of the rubble of my bout with colitis and hopelessness, I bought myself a pretty little ring as a reminder that I am responsible for my own happiness. I had lost track of it for several weeks, but as I was dumping out a purse to get ready to go, it fell right out onto the floor like a gift.

I picked it up and put it on my finger, a reminder, a message I'd left for myself from a more enlightened time.

Perspective

Yesterday I experienced the the benefit of aiming for happyish. As alluded to, I had a deadline and I was in that horrible college mid-terms 50% done and I've been working for days phase, greasy hair, empty pretzel bags strewn about, desperation in my eyes. Nevertheless, Spangles was in the neighborhood so I was taking a break to meet him for a cup of tea.

As I drove to meet him, I was full of panic and self-loathing about my project, my deadlines, my ignorance, my inability to just buckle down and work ceaselessly for eleven hours straight - I mean what's wrong with me? I had put on Whitney Houston's "I Didn't Know My Own Strength", so you know things were dire.

But are you happy-ISH?, I asked myself. I found my response to be, "Well...sure."

I mean on the other side of things, it's a gorgeous day, finally spring, I'm going to see my steady, I got paid, and I'll probably survive this project. Beyond today, life is pretty broad and unencumbered and free... so, sure, if I don't have to be weeping tears of joy like I just won an academy award, I mean if you take the long view...sure, I'm happyish.

Et voila. The miracle of lowered expectations.

C'mon Get Happyish

I decided to change the name of my blog. I realized that what was preventing me from sharing it with a wider audience (although my current audience of one, The Twin, will always be among my best) was that the title was just too earnest. Some days I am that earnest, but not all the time. Sometimes I like to land sassy side up.

Why Happyish? For one, I believe in setting achievable goals. For two, you would not believe how many blogspot domain names involving happiness are already taken.

Not to say that one couldn't sail right past happyish into the wide wide world of full-on, balls-out happi*ness* some days, but why set yourself up to fall short of the mark on days that are, all things considered, slightly above average. If you happen to knock it out of the park once in a while with straight up joy, all the better.

I think it acknowledges the reality that although it would be nice, you can't walk around in a effervescent glow of happiness at all times. Life is tricky; sh*t happens; happiness is slippery. So if at the end of the day you do all the adding and subtracting and wind up with a positive number, and overall you are happyish, then great. There are a lot more Greek Tragedy-esque ways it could've turned out. I mean, just read the newspaper. Happyish is nothing to sniff at.