So, you and I are having coffee in a little cafe off the main
street in town. The conversation meanders as it always does between
friends. We talk about our kids and our jobs and our husbands. And
somewhere in one of those lulls of companionable silence, I spill a
secret that I have kept hidden for the longest time. I have been
unhappy my whole life, I tell you. You stop, and I can feel your
discomfort. I can see you don't know what to say. Don't worry, I
shrug. I've seen this reaction before. It wasn't the worst thing in
the world, I explain. It's not like I lived a life of complete
misery. Nothing so dramatic. I have had plenty of happy moments.
But fundamentally, beneath the surface, in the core where I live, I
was... lost, unsure, insecure... in a word, unhappy. I see surprise
on your face. No way, you say. I don't believe you. You seem so
happy now. So together. And then I smile. Yes, I am happy. Now. But
it took me fifty years to figure it out. And now, it's the funniest
thing. For years, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't be happy.
Now, it's just the opposite. Now, I can't seem to be unhappy, even
when bad things happen in my life. You shake your head as if you
are not sure you can believe me. But then, you think back and see
that I do seem to always be in sync, to roll with the challenges
that I encounter and stay balanced. What happened, you finally ask.
What changed? Everything, I say. It turns out I have been learning
about happiness my whole life. I sit back and sip my coffee.
Happiness, I tell you, was an elusive little sucker....
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