I'll admit that ever since the 'Boston debacle' (as I call it) when I was lost in a blissful euphoria but then crashed to a low I had never thought possible, I have had trouble with happiness. Perhaps not in the way you might imagine. It is not as if I do not like to feel happy, but rather, I am terrified of happiness because it has become a prime indicator that something crappy is going to happen. Take, for example, our move to MN. Everyone should know by now that I was very unhappy--bordering on manic--about the move but once we arrived, I was hell-bent on making a go of it, of changing my attitude and embracing our new life here. Stupid. Just when I was happily (note the word) ensconced in helping the children acclimate to their new school and decorating our home (22 months after we moved here to be exact), my husband lost his job. I will leave out all the minutia and the day to day roller coaster of life with this type of stress and fast forward to February 2012 when we put our house on the market and readied ourselves for the big move back east. Woo hoo, it was awesome! We even took a trip to check out schools and housing and we were greeted by the most glorious and unseasonably warm weather that we spent our afternoons playing on the beach...in March! I had not felt that happy in forever. Stupid. Until April 6th when our world, once again, came crashing down around us.
I tried to start my morning off in a happy mood despite it being Monday and the start of a particularly busy week including lots of after school activities plus semester final exams which always put my son in the best of moods (wink wink). Unfortunately, my mood was dashed--no shocker there--as there was an issue with our insurance (a big and potentially dangerous one) and my husband, who had been trying to deal with the mess while I was running an errand, looked as though he was going to have a heart attack, our agent was no where to be found (nor has he since returned a call nor answered my emails) and my poor dog looked like, once again, she had drawn the short straw being chosen to live with our family.
Not only do I think that happiness is over-rated, but I also feel that it is quite unhealthy for me as the fluctuations in blood pressure from happiness to its subsequent (and oftentimes inevitable) crash are killing me. I think a nice dose of the mundane, a few weeks of calm, no fantastic highs/Hell-like lows, might be just what the doctor has ordered. Now if someone could tell me how to have a few weeks like that, I would be golden--but not happy.