I remember waking up as a child and feeling an irrepressible happiness flood through my body. It would start right in the middle of my chest as a warm glow, radiate up through my throat as a giggle and then circle back round to my belly and disperse in a squirmy pile of butterflies. I would bask in the super-ness of being alive and wonder what deliciousness the day would bring. Would someone take me some place fun? Were my favorite toys waiting for me? Might breakfast be the perfect combination of flavors to make me ask for seconds? And might someone give me seconds? The giddiness was too much to contain.
As I got older, the joy diminished. Waking up no longer held the promise of freedom, but the responsibility of school, the pressure of performance and the dread of consequences from a job not-well done. A foreign (now all too familiar) heaviness set in. The lightness of morning reassigned itself only to days with sloppy-joe lunches or hamburger and french fry dinners, Saturday mornings and summertime. I went from wondering what shade of blue the sky would be to worrying if my mama would be able to pay the gas bill, or if my daddy be in a good mood. I went, as we all do, from living to being alive.
By the time I was an adult and the feeling of inexplicable joy dared to squeeze it's way in from time time, I no longer trusted it. I would ask myself, "What do you have to be so happy about?" My bills were due, my man hadn't called, my ass was too big, my clothes were too small. My happiness fled from me like a spooked cat. The light yellow feeling that had lived in my chest vacated, replaced by an ominous looking tenant who curled into a heavy brown ball in the pit of my stomach and rarely moved. It still reached into my throat from time time, but instead of gently pushing out laughter, it lodged its fist into a lump of swallowed tears.
I worried about everything, all the time. Does he like me? Will they fire me? Am I late (again!?!)? Will I graduate? Will I succeed? Does he love me? Will he marry me? Will I lose the weight? Should I get cheese on it? Is this a milk duct, a lymph node or cancer?
And then miracles of all miracles, I had children. And while they drive me crazy; poop in inappropriate places, interrupt my sleep, break my jewelery and can't wipe themselves, they constantly remind me of a truth I'd completely forgotten: life is supposed to be fun.
Did you hear me?? LIFE IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!!!!!!!!
I used to know that. Don't you remember knowing that? That's why I used to wake up happy when I was a little kid- not because I had enough money in my bank account, or I had enough weed to last me through the day (and night), but because... there was no frigging because! I was filled with joy just because I was alive! I miss that feeling! And I'll tell you something else I learned from my kids. The art of tantrums. Now, if you'll please excuse me...
I WANT MY HAPPINESS BACK! I WANT MY JOY BACK! I WANT MY BLISS BACK! I WANT THOSE BUTTERFLIES TO GET BACK IN MY BELLY AND SQUIRM AROUND! I WANT TO SMILE LIKE A BLITHERING IDIOT! I WANT TO ENJOY MY LIFE! AND I DON'T WANT TO NEED A REASON! I WANT IT BECAUSE IT'S MIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!!!!
Ahem. (Smooths clothes). That's better. Life is too short to go one more day (one more moment!) all frowned up. Chase your happiness like it's a toilet full of water and your ass is on fire. Find something you love to do and do it. Play hopscotch. Draw a picture. Play solitaire on the computer. Whip your hair back and forth. Cook something delicious. Take a nap. Write a poem. Read a book. Sing something. Find your spouse (or a stranger- whatever- no judgment here...) and screw their brains out. Watch an episode of The Office (cause that shit is HILARIOUS). Smoke a joint. Down a shot. It doesn't matter what it is, just as long as it lets some light in.
"Seek peace and pursue it." - Psalms 34:14. Yep, I put the Lord on it. So now you GOTTA do it.
