Sunday, July 5, 2015

Happiness Lunch

Hi readers,

Today, I was blathering away to my pedicure girl in nonsensical Spanish, remarking thoughtfully and apologetically about how gross my feet were and wondering aloud how to say "square but round" in Spanish (turns out it doesn't translate) it occurred to me: I was happy.  It was a breezy summer day, I had gotten a free iced coffee and my nails were being transformed from "Alpine-Climbing-Disaster-Neutral" to "Charged-up-Cherry-Pink".

Happiness is a instinct.  These days, I am able to state my level of happiness with just a few seconds thought.   It is caused and defined by different parameters for different folks, but like Heidi Montag's plastic surgery, it is always easy to recognize.

As my delightful Korean manicurist razored dead skin off the side of my big toe, I was transported to a summer day a few years ago when I was going through a terrible break-up and not so happy.  I didn't know it at the time (the same way people that are dying from hypothermia think they are just tired).

I was having lunch with a wonderful friend, an appointment I had squeezed in between two therapy sessions in the hopes of cheering myself up.  My friend gamely asked how I was doing and I replied I wasn't quite sure.  Life seemed so complicated.  As we sipped $10 glasses of rose at Artisanal I volleyed the question back at her.

Me: "Are you happy?"
Wonderful caring friend: "Oh god, no."

Her quick answer made sense.  She was (unknowingly) at the precipice of a divorce, it was August in Manhattan and she was not a teacher, so she had to return to work instead of spending the whole day considering her feelings, filling lorazepam prescriptions and trotting around to different therapies and wellness appointments. Nonetheless, I was impressed by her sure ability to recognize her own feelings.  When she said no, I had the strength to say no too, and it made all my problems a lot simpler.  Because in the end it boils down to this:

Choice A. You're happy
Choice B. You're not happy

Everything else in life can branch our from this realization.  Once I was able to recognize my unhappiness, I started asking questions and making decisions.  Did I want to stay unhappy?  No.  Could I become happy by reconsidering my current situation?  An eventual no.

How could I change things?  

This question was the golden ticket--the one that changed my perspective.  It takes strength to ask and answer honestly, but it's been a road to fabulous and I haven't regretted a single step.  My wonderful friend and I re-live our "happiness lunch" sometimes.  The conversations tend to go like this:

Me: Remember that terrible lunch where we were both so miserable?
My wonderful friend: Ugh, yes. That was the worst!
Me: Are you happy now?
My wonderful friend: Yes.  The happiest I've ever been. 
Me: So am I.


Sunset in Madrid





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