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For years (most of my adulthood, in fact), my mother has periodically asked me if I’m happy. AT this point, it’s never a surprise when she asks me, even though I never know when she’s going to ask. It’s become somewhat of a routine that she and I go through. Perhaps there’s something in my tone, or maybe I seem distracted–or, perhaps simply a mother’s intuition. She doesn’t ask me this every time we speak, but I know it’s a question she has every day when it comes to both of her children. So, when she asks me if I’m happy–I try my best to consider my current mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical state before answering her. That is, I don’t want to just say anything to move the conversation, but I don’t want to be dishonest either. She’s not asking me in the way a co-worker would ask in order to be polite. No, mom dukes really wants to know if I’m “happy.” In most instances, my on the spot calculations would lead me to respond after a brief pause with, “I’m content.”
I’m typically not an emotional person. I am normally in the middle with things, although I can still feel the highs and lows like anybody else. I am not prone to telling the world about my woes, though. Life has shown me countless times that folks are cool with spreading or shoveling their shit on you, but they really don’t want to be bothered with yours. So, as a matter of personal wellness, I have learned to keep my own counsel and speak when necessary. In some ways, I am sure that this is a touch unhealthy, but I tend to work through most of my issues through a lot of introspection, prayer and activities that allow my creativity to flourish. This is how I balance and or renew. If the water gets to deep, I tend to slow down, and I’ll talk to those I am confident will hear me.
As a noun, “Happiness” is defined as 1) the quality or state of being happy, and 2) good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy. As an adjective, being “Content” can be defined (in part) as the state of being satisfied with what one is or has. In most instances, if I had to pick between the two, I’d lean more towards than content than happy. These days, I recently realized I’m “cool,” which can be synonymous with being or feeling “collected,” “self-possessed,” “unruffled,” “placid,” or “quiet.”
My mother often replies by saying, “I can’t wait for the day when you tell me you’re happy,” or some variation of that. I’ll poke back at her and ask, “Would you rather I lie to you,” to which she objects. I get it though, part of her is concerned with whether or not I am happy. All of her wants me to be happy. My responding with some synonym for contentment ain’t necessarily awe inspiring or great news. But, it is what it is.
Admittedly, these are not ringing endorsements for quality of life, but they are a statement of fact. I tell my mother I am content, because that is what often best suits me in the moment. It’s not uncommon for us to talk after I’ve just gotten off of work while I’m in the car, which means I’m airing out and and still haven’t settled in the house yet. I’m tired, and, yeah–life. But, I know I have a job. I am healthy. I have full use of my faculties and limbs. So, while life ain’t everything I’d like it to be, I’m good with what it is.
And that’s what I try to convey to her–and remind myself. See, while I am not where I want to be in life, I know that I am far from where I started. I’ve grown. I’ve made mistakes and learned from them. Hell, I’m still dealing with the fallout from past decisions, but I accept that it’s my fallout. I don’t have to like it. Hell, I don’t have to agree with it. But not accepting whatever it is won’t stop it from being what it is.
If I can see that I am not happy in a particular moment, then perhaps I can evaluate and figure out why. If I can do that, then maybe I can address it. This is the thing I constantly try to do. I try to live in a way that allows me to clearly understand how my actions and inactions directly play into the hoy I am experiencing in my day-to-day life. A lot of what affects me, honestly, is external. What happens to those I love, my ability to be great at work–those things play into how I feel. But, unless I’m doing something unsavory, I have to be mindful to not let them overly impact how I feel about myself.
Bottom line: I’m a pretty grounded dude. I am not a sad sack who finds ways to be miserable. I simply like to call a thing what it is. If something is off, I feel like it’s only right to acknowledge it, even if it’s just an internal acknowledgement. I just have to remember that I must keep inventory of what helps me to grow, makes me happy and keeps me moving forward, acknowledge it, and accept it. Just like I need to be mindful of the life events that have hurt me, made me feel less than, prevented my growth–acknowledge it, and accept it. Only this time, in accepting these things, I am accepting that they happened. That I am affected by them, or that perhaps they affect others, and I need to do something to make these things not happen, or mitigate them.
Me saying I am content is not me giving up on happiness. I know my mother knows that. But what it is saying, is that I am still moving towards where I believe happiness is for me. I hope she can find happiness in that. I am cool with it. I am willing to be content in order to find a more lasting sense of happiness. Happiness, like all good things takes work. I am willing to earn that, and fight like hell to keep it. But until then? It just is what it is, and I am totally cool with that.
