What Would Make You Happy Tonight?
I ran into this girl — let’s call her J — from high school on the train last year. We were going home from our respective jobs. There was a holiday approaching, though now I can’t remember which one it was. We were holding onto the upper bars, struggling for room on the packed train, smiling along and pretending like we had more in common than just acquaintances.
“So! What are you doing over the holidays?” we asked each other practically in unison, out of our lack of creativity and legitimate interest in the answer.
Her answer went a little along the lines of: “Traveling with friends,” and “going to the beach,” and “going hiking,” and “sunbathing,” and the general answers that married well with her Instagram pictures of luxurious beach parties with beachwear and martinis.
My answer went a little along the lines of: “Watching Netflix,” and “eating junk food,” and “having a few beers or maybe wine,” and “writing a thing or two,” and the general answers that married well with my Instagram pictures of selfies and quotes of books and the occasional pretentious picture of a dish with an alcoholic beverage taken from above.
None of this was a problem. In school, J and I didn’t go out much, but she was now going out with some people I used to party lots with when I was 15 or 16. They were all nice people, I understood we had different interests, and it was all very okay. I’m not an introvert, you see — I do like the company of friends and the sporadic date. Only I don’t usually meet them in clubs as much as I meet them at my home. I don’t usually go camping with my friends as much as I binge-watch shows with them while eating everything we can find.
I was at peace with all of this…until J frowned at me, and asked: “Really? And would you drink that beer or wine, like, alone?” She has a way of emphasizing words in a way that you can hear them in Italics. It’s unnerving.
I paused, blinked a couple of times, and held on tighter to the bar of the train to steady myself. “Well, not necessarily. But this holiday, I think so, yeah.”
J continued to stare blankly at me. “But why?”
Not long after that, we changed subjects. I don’t remember how I answered. But her words stuck, playing on loop in my head even days after, during the holidays (during which I did do as promised, only it didn’t feel as good anymore).
A few days after that, I called my mother. I don’t remember if I cried before or after she picked up.
“Ma,” I started, “I don’t really like parties, and I like to spend time by myself, but I don’t want to be lonely and I don’t want to end up regretting everything. Am I living wrong?”
A little cultural context: by Brazilian standards, yes. Yes, I was living wrong.
The country of the week-long celebration of Carnaval with people partying 24/7 on the streets, clapping to the sunset in Rio beaches, dancing ‘round and ‘round in their prenda dresses in CTGs in Rio Grande do Sul, having picnics in Butantã Park in São Paulo and, still in São Paulo, celebrating street art in all its possible forms in Augusta Street. Well… that was a country that didn’t leave a lot of room for “happy-by-yourself” time. Especially “happy-by-yourself at home” time.
There’s this pressure to socialize that exceeds the limits of yours truly, even though, as I said before, I do consider myself an extrovert. There’s this pressure to go out, to have fun, to be at parties and be exploring the beautiful landscapes, and to travel, and to spend every penny on fabricating memories.
The whole concept exhausts me a bit.
My mother, who had always lived by those standards even when she thought she was rebelling against them, understood where I was coming from. She didn’t answer my question. Not immediately. Instead, she asked another.
“What would make you happy tonight? What would be the perfect Sunday evening?”
I paused. The answer seemed obvious enough. “It’s me watching something and eating chips, drinking something good. Just relaxing.”
She hummed in understanding. “By yourself or with friends?”
“With friends on Saturday, I guess. But Sunday is for relaxing, to truly relax…by myself.”
“Well then, you have your answer. You’re living right.”
I shook my head. “But it’s not what everyone else thinks. I’m not living right by their standards, Ma.”
She wouldn’t have it. “Their standards shouldn’t matter anyway,” she said.
There you go: their standards shouldn’t matter anyway. Ma wisdom.
What makes other people happy won’t necessarily make me happy. In fact, I learned that’s rarely the case. And what makes me happy won’t necessarily make you happy either. I don’t think J is living wrong because she chooses to spend her free time living differently than I do. But what I learned — what I’ve been learning constantly, each day feeling a little more convinced — is that to live right, we have to listen to our hearts.
For the big things, yes, but also for the very small things, such as how you choose to spend your free time and what things really relax you. Everyone is different, and every day is different, so we should try to keep listening to our bodies and our hearts.
Stripping away of cultural and social expectations of what you’re supposed to want for yourself and for your time, I invite you to ask yourself the same questions Ma asked me. I’ll be happy if you share the answers, but if you don’t know them yet, keep searching.
What would make you happy tonight? What would be the perfect Sunday evening?
Only you hold the answers.
