If you're happy and you know it....

“…But, are you happy?”

It was during one of my daily catch up calls with my mother that she digressed from our standard script. She didn’t want to know what I ate, or what time I woke up and if I did my PT. It was one of those catch ups where my mother abruptly interrupted my tirade of irrelevant details with a simple question.

Thing is, I am a happy person. I, for the longest time, can’t remember not being able to look at a situation and pick something positive up from it to focus on. Even then, through my two years at Michigan, my mother has been the quickest at noticing even the slightest changes in my temperament. Be it stress, ill-health or just happiness, she’s been able to actually show me how I’m feeling, even before I have had a chance to face my own emotions. And so her question hit home, it felt, for the lack of a better word, loaded.

I was ashamed at how much importance I was giving such a simple question. I mean, she is my mother. She wasn’t trying to make me uncomfortable, she was just being my mother. So I did what I always do when stumped, I called up bae. As soon as I said the words, ‘… and then she asked me if I was happy’, her reaction was a simple ‘fuck’. Thing is, I didn’t even realize just how much she dreads the question too. It got me thinking, why were we so scared of accepting to ourselves, that we might indeed be happy? Or are we just unhappy people?

Would it be so bad if I accepted to myself that at this very minute, I am happy? I am finally looking forward and have left my past behind, exactly where it belonged. My two year old nephew’s concept of unbridled happiness was rubbing off on me, and dancing with him to random tunes and being showered with limitless love was showing me that no matter what, I was going to be okay. Life as I knew it, was pretty damn good. But would the fact that tomorrow might not be a day as good as today deter me? The fact that looking for a job 4 months after graduation is stressing me out, in effect make my assertion, that I am happy, a lie?

Truth be told, I don’t think I know how to deal with the dichotomy of my feelings. On one hand, I am more than grateful for friends and family that love and support me unconditionally, on the other, I am forever overwrought with this looming sense of failure. Or I guess what I am not saying is, I don’t know what being happy even means. I don’t know if my momentary happiness is good enough to qualify as me being happy or the fact that these are “moments” and not a stable state of existence, must mean I am unhappy. If I am indeed unhappy, what would make me happy? A kickass job, a stable relationship, a big ass house with a view or a swanky car? After I do have these, what guarantees me an eternal state of happiness? Because whom am I kidding, I know myself and I’m pretty sure I will constantly be seeking “more”. But most importantly, few things scare me more than the idea of being an unhappy person. So, as I continue this journey I believe I am on (and apparently, in control of), I would like to believe that ‘happy’ is my constant state of being, with questionable moments thrown in – exactly how I like my cake: sweet with a bitter chocolate glaze.