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11:03 a.m. - 2012-01-20
The Why of it all.

I know no one is churlish enough to resent my happiness, okay there's a few of you who are sick-souled little cretins who'd be thrilled if Mick dropped dead, Wolf took up heroin and my house burned down, but otherwise it's all creamy. Yet I'm thinking happy burbling is probably a bit tiresome to hear about all the time, even to my friends. But that's where I'm at. My life is not without problems, who's life is? However the problems seem manageable.

This is a wonderment.

Not ever truly being happy before I had no concept of it, the best I ever wanted for myself was to not be in pain. That was the big wish for my life, the jackpot, simply to not hurt anymore. To me there was nothing beyond 'not hurting'. It's not like I was settling for less, like 'not hurting' was the good enough option because that was the best I'd ever get, but truly I had no idea of how happy felt. I didn't really know there was such a thing. I assumed happy people were the ones who weren't in pain. And that if I was ever allowed to stop hurting I'd be a happy person too.

It's like I'd spent my life in a hideous cacophony of agonized screams and grinding machinery, I just wanted the noise to stop. The most blissful thing ever would be silence. Imagine my surprise to discover there's more than just silence, that beyond the noise and the absence of noise (the best there was) I've found out there is music.

It's truly like this. I never understood I'd been missing the whole other half of the equation.

Despite having a pretty good imagination I don't think I can be blamed for not knowing about what happiness was really like, that there was so much more to the deal, for not knowing about the music. How could I? The noise of my earlier life had been too loud.

Of course I'm digging the goodies. The boughten stuff. How I can use a paper towel and not be in agonies of shame over my financial extravagance. The joy of a steady income is a marvel I never want to get over or take for granted. Of course I am tickled and feel like a princess because of the other more subtle ways Mick does for me. Gassing my car. Making the trash disappear. Bringing me a cup of tea that's fixed exactly the way I like it. But those are outside things. If they went away I'd miss them. However, what will never go away is the happy. The truth of being happy.

I can never lose that.

Even if the very worst things happened, things too terrible for me to write down, I will still know about happy. The big blank space I hadn't known was there is filled. I have the entire equation. I don't stop in the middle anymore, ignorant of the concept of there being this whole other place beyond 'not hurting'.

This is why the yucky stuff doesn't lay me so low anymore. The perspective I have allows me to see past the days when my bod is rebelling, the bank account is a whistling ghost town, when the kid is a pill, and the cats puke hairballs on the rug. Even when Mick and I are slamming doors and shouting there's some piece of me that's still just fine. Shit happens. Really ugly shit happens sometimes and I'm okay with that. Know why?

I hear the music now.

I never, ever, ever have to go back to the time when the best there is is silence. ~LA

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