Buckling Down and Getting Happy
A lot of the folks in this town are happy. They just seem to know how to be. A lot of them have been doing things like running, meditation, mindfulness, and hot yoga for years. I didn't really start thinking about these advanced level happy practices until after I moved here. I've not embarked on any yet, though I hope to. Maybe. Someday. Anyway, Puerto Viejo is certainly the place for it when I’m ready.
Even though I was never the poster girl for mind-body wellness, I knew years ago I needed to change some things if I was ever going to have a chance at happiness. For me the first steps to reach even the suburbs of happy are summed up in items #7 & #8 of Chopra’s article [above]. I needed to stop blaming and take responsibility for my own happiness. I often thought I was sad because I didn't have enough- enough esteem at work, attention at home, regard from family, or love from friends. And it was all their fault.
For twenty years I heard echoes of Self-help Gurus Past reverberate in my head, telling me that my happiness has nothing to do with what other people are doing to me. I heard it- hell, I even listened with intent- but I didn't connect. When social media sites came along, these lessons were underscored by plagues of memes and articles in my newsfeed, like the one that inspired this post. Happy talk was mainstream.
The number of places for me to hide from the truth was dwindling, and everyone in my life was catching on. While lots of folk have the capacity to blame and project, I was just a little bit better. Mine was a pretty sophisticated self-pity.
The universe didn't have to send me a bolt of lightning or an HD dream. Self-pity’s immensely unattractive. Actual humans just told me I kind of sucked. It hurt, but the best thing about a self-pity intervention is that no one is going to feel sorry for you and back out. I’m grateful to the people who confronted me, even though a cursory glance at my E-Mails from that time suggests I wasn't. Even though they’re not in my life anymore. Happiness doesn't always mean happy endings.
Love’s the Answer, Big Surprise
I had attempted to exorcise this pity demon from myself times before, through hate. It didn't work; hating my inner victim just spiraled into loud self-loathing. This manifested as sarcasm, snark, and escapism. Unsurprisingly, this didn't endear me to more people. I couldn't ‘hate my way to happy,’ which seems pretty intuitive in retrospect. I think I was funny to some people with this approach, which is why I hung onto it for as long as I did. I recognized eventually, though, this made me just as sad.
I also tried to just hide my victim. I’d feel all my victimy feelings and then say the exact opposite of what I was feeling. Disaster. This freaked people out even more. I looked certifiably insane. You know that woman at the office who people say is ‘cracking up,’ and she’s not laughing. That was me.
I had to be confronted. I had to look at my inner-victim. I had to love her. She’s draining, uncooperative, selfish, and an attention-monger. Hating her made me mean to boot. Hiding her made me a liar and nuts. So, with the help of some really cool friends who stuck around, I've learned to acknowledge her and embrace her. I apply some good-natured ribbing, then I tell her to shut the **** up.
I gotta say, the rest of Chopra’s advice is much easier to follow in Puerto Viejo, where there is so much beauty, accessibility to nature, and a marked de-emphasis on material possessions.
I promise to think more about yoga…tomorrow. I’m happy enough today.
