Another Old One

I have come so far. And it's exciting.

Every week my manager posts a quote on his whiteboard that is supposed to inspire us throughout the week. Usually I don't pay too much attention to them, but last week he posted this:

Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking. - Marcus Aurelius

I'm sure he didn't do it intentionally, but it seemed like that quote was staring me straight in the face; challenging me to think about what happiness really is and when it was that I lost most of mine.

I always believed myself to be happy a person. Someone who would radiate light when I walked into any situation, provide a positive spin on a gloomy idea, put smiles on people's faces. Two weeks ago I realized that I was exuding a facade. Behind the witty sarcasm, smiles, and upbeat tone lies an utterly dismal, gray cave where my true self resides. When I go into work, visit my parents, or hang out with friends, I hang beautiful curtains to cover the cracks and holes of the deteriorating cave. I shove feelings of disappointment, frustration and sadness under the rug that receives so many compliments. Little do people know what's truly residing in that place that is so beautifully kept, perfectly presentable.

I'm not quite sure when I started to cover what was really there. Perhaps it was four years ago when I found myself adjusting to a new life with new people surrounding me with their ideals and values. I felt uncomfortable and out of place, yet I swept those feelings under the "I can overlook that for the sake of cohesiveness" rug. That rug is probably the most ornate, because very few people know what's under that one.

Perhaps it was three years ago when my mom found out that her cancer would eventually kill her. I always found strength in my mom so when I felt the walls of my house start to crack because I would eventually lose her, I hung curtains of denial and "don't worry, everything will be alright" to cover the small cracks. As the years passed and her cancer became more evident, I had to increase the size of those curtains.

Perhaps it was one year ago when my dad went in for a routine check-up that changed our lives. He nearly died from heart failure after the surgery that was supposed to fix him. Instead of a crack in the wall, that created a gaping hole which demanded for an even bigger curtain of "don't worry mom, he will be alright" and "don't worry dad, the treatments will make you better" to be created.

Or, maybe it was even two weeks ago when we were informed that the treatments weren't working. Radiation did little to stop the movement of his cancer. Additionally, it became evident that it was time for my parents to relocate, leave their house behind, and start a new chapter in their lives. That nearly knocked out an entire wall, but still I tried to hang up beautiful curtains of "I can do this, I'm a strong person" to distract people from the drafty, unsightly hole of a missing wall.

Or perhaps it was even yesterday when I realized that it's nearly impossible for me to maintain a full time job while juggling my parents' needs during my "off" time. Disappointment, and even feelings of failure created yet another looming crack as I realized that my career may have to be put on hold. As I sat there in the oncologist's waiting room, I couldn't help but think about my peers who are receiving the career opportunities that perhaps I would receive if I was there to get them. All those years of sweat and tears through college, graduating top of my class, only to find myself spending less and less time pursuing what I love. I just don't have any more material for curtains or rugs to hide the hideous place where I reside. What was once a sturdy house filled with confidence, pride, and strength has become nothing more than a dreary cave.

But this blog is titled Happiness. You're probably wondering why, if it's titled Happiness, have I been talking about sheer unhappiness. It's because when I stood there, staring at that quote on his little whiteboard, I had an epiphany. I realized that for so long I've been trying to make my life accommodating to those around me. In other words, not many visitors would feel comfortable entering my house with holes and cracks and garbage littering the floor. No one wants to stay very long in an unsightly house. But as I stood there reading that quote, I realized that because I was so busy trying to cover up the cracks and holes, I didn't have any time left to mend them. I didn't have any time to work on my own internal happiness. Just when I started to patch the wall, a visitor would come by and I would throw a pretty curtain over it.

When I got back to my desk, I sat there for a moment truly thinking about all the 'visitors' that come and go. And why it's worth my time to have 'visitors' who not only can't stand the sight of a deteriorating house, they want no part in trying to fix it. And even on top of that, there are some 'visitors' who come in, dump their garbage on my floor and leave. In other words, I know of many people in my life who don't care to hear about my pain, my sadness, my hurt...it's too awkward or uncomfortable or hard for them. Instead, they call me and talk about their problems and issues and pain. And trying to be a good friend, I let them dump all their garbage on my floor. And instead of letting me dump some of mine, they leave.

But this is a new year. I have a fresh opportunity to tear down the curtains that are so precisely hung. I have another chance to remove the rug that appears to lay so comfortably flat and reveal what lurks beneath it. Only then can I start to rebuild. It is going to be a hard process, but I will find happiness in 2009. I'm going to cut off a lot of dead weight. Many people will be offended, hurt, and surprised. Those are the people who do all the dumping. Those are the people who talk to me when it's convenient for them. But then there are those special few who truly care about me, the real me. Some of those people know me incredibly well. What's surprising is that most of those people hardly know me at all. They just know that I'm hurting and they want to help. The people in my life who are worth having around won't leave when they see all the cracks, all the garbage that's under the beautiful rug. They'll stay. They'll sit there with me and yell and cry and sob. Then they'll help me fix it.