Happy Talk

Is “gratitude” the same thing?

This piece is in response to ⭐ Ryan Justin’s story prompt on happiness, and what it means to us, individually.

This will be relatively short as I can’t say that I’m very “happy” right now. To me, happiness is primarily, the absence of “worry.” And, currently, worry is my constant companion.

If this makes me sound like a sad sack, I apologize. But, there it is. And, I suppose in a way, this is what I’ve become. Not outwardly, though. Never outwardly.

I’m trying to pinpoint exactly when my mope mentality began. Certainly, losing my well-paying job of fourteen years has had an impact on my emotional state.

Money is a source of worry to me. Not having enough. It’s not like we’re destitute, and what the hell is money, anyway? We’ve had it drummed into our brains that money doesn’t buy happiness, but it’s a hell of a start.

Having a healthy bottom line contributes to the absence of worry. There’s that word again. As I handle the bills, I’ve become somewhat tightfisted in a way that even I find unbecoming — and maybe even, unnecessary.

For example, I’ve put off work that needs to be done to our home. Not all of it, just the “big” jobs, like replacing floors and windows. Like that.

My husband and I haven’t had a vacation in years. I see people’s pics of their sojourns to Mexico, or languishing on a Mediterranean cruise ship — a resort here, a mountain top there, and all of this is completely foreign to me.

On the other hand, I am grateful for so many things. Over four years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer but thankfully, it was caught early and I am now fine.

Yes, I am grateful. I give thanks that I am alive. My husband is alive, although dealing with health challenges. Our cats are alive and well and perfect little beings on four legs. My sister and her family are doing great.

But, are gratitude and happiness the same thing? I’m struggling with this.

I think part of my problem is that I don’t stop to, “just breathe.” Such a cliché, I know, but it’s true. I ramrod through my days like a pile driver. Writing. Keeping the house. Paying bills. Looking for the odd freelance gig. My life has become robotic. This frightens me to no end. I liken this to people who constantly say, “I wish it were Friday.” Why? That’s the fast track to wishing your life away, in my opinion.

Living in the present. Being present. This is something I need to practice. How does one do this? I would love to know.

A therapist I was seeing a few years ago told me to try yoga. I bought several beginner DVDs and gave it a shot. Halfway through one of them, I got dizzy and nearly passed out.

Namaste, my ass.

Movement. That’s my thing. A good cardio sweat session helps quell my racing thoughts. If I don’t get the opportunity to work out, which I do daily, I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin.

Yet, this story is supposed to be about happiness. So, let me take a breath (“Just breathe!”) and reflect a moment.

When he’s feeling good, my husband makes me happy.

Our cats make me incredibly happy. I love them so much. Watching them bask in their separate patches of sunlight calms and soothes me.

My first cup of coffee in the morning makes me happy. I add all sorts of stuff to it, like collagen powder and a cookies and cream protein powder that keeps me satisfied for hours.

A beautiful morning makes me happy. Gazing out the deck window at our property’s many trees is vegetal balm for my soul.

Writing makes me happy, especially, when people “get” what I’m laying down.

When my manager gets my screenplay to a producer of note, that makes me happy, as well.

A cocktail is happiness in a glass with a stuffed olive or two, on top. Except when I go beyond my limit.

The way the air smells — so fresh and verdant — after a rainstorm, makes me happy.

A hot romp in the hay used to make me happy.

I should stop as I feel like I’m trying to convince myself of something.

Obviously, the definition of happiness differs for everyone, but I am reminded of a bit of dialogue from a character in the beautiful film, “Away From Her,” from Canadian actress/director, Sarah Polley. This is the type of person I aspire to be:

“I’m thinking that sometimes you just have to make a decision to be happy. You just decide. Things aren’t ever what you hoped they’d be. Not ever. Not for anybody. The only thing that separates one kind of person from the other, is that there are some who stay angry about it, and there are some who accept what comes their way.”

I hope there’s still time.

Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Hope you enjoyed reading. There’s more where this came from: