I wish I was the kind of diarist who could draw clever
cartoons or renderings of beautiful houses or hilarious sayings in the margins
of my journals but I’m not. I just
write. Sometimes I glue things in first
and then write over top of that but mostly I just write. It is the best way I know to get rid of the
junk in my head. I journal because I get
to say anything I want. Say it badly if I
want. Write the word FUCK in big fat
letters or scribble all over the page or complain about friends or whine about
myself and my moods and be melancholy as I want to be but lately it seems that
I’ve gotten into the habit of being in the melancholy state a little too
often. I don’t do it on purpose. I’ve just always been that way. Being
happy is one of the saddest things that can happen to a person. Life is so good it’s goddamn scary. I am one of those lucky people who has it
pretty damn great. I love my husband for
starters. I think he is gorgeous and
kind and smart. He is a good man. He is a gentle man. And those characteristics are getting harder
and harder to come by. My kids are
amazing. They’re all wonderful
people. They’re respectful and careful
with people’s feelings. We laugh
together and genuinely like each other.
Not to say we haven’t had our moments we wouldn’t be normal if we hadn’t
but by and large everything is A. O. K. So.
Why am I sad?
I’m not sad all the time, but probably about half. Like the song says I was born this way. I don’t court melancholia. I count my blessings. I am grateful. But I am keenly aware of the eventuality of
it all and it’s a terrible habit. It’s
like being at the greatest party you’ve ever been to. The music is pumping, the mood is
jubilant. People are dancing and
laughing and no one is overly drunk or annoying. You’re having so much fun you don’t want the
night to end. But you don’t stand in the
corner thinking how sad it is that such a great party will be over soon. You dance.
You laugh. Maybe you sing some
karaoke. And you go home saying to one another
“God that was great!!! We should do it more often!” If life is a party maybe I shouldn’t be
watching the clock. Living in the moment
is hard. Why is it that it’s so much
easier to look backwards or forwards instead of just enjoying the party? Two words.
Catastrophic thought.
Having happiness is the strange bedfellow of catastrophic
thinking. I always use the butterfly
analogy. When I talk about love to my
kids I always tell them that love is like holding a butterfly. If you hold it gently it will flutter and
tickle your palms. But if you hold it too
tightly you’ll kill it. The same is true
of life in general. Hold on too tight
and you kill the joy. I’m just holding
too tight. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to lose my husband or god forbid
a child. I want to live a long life with
Ken. I want our kids to live long,
healthy, happy lives as well and I want them to find someone who loves them
like we love each other. I just don’t
want the party to be over.
My husband has taken up Kiteboarding. The guys he rides with have a saying ‘best
day ever’. It doesn’t really matter if
the conditions were ideal they always end the day the same way. ‘Best day ever.’ I love that.
It’s a shift in consciousness.
And it applies to everything.
Best job ever. Best sandwich
ever. Best nap ever. Mind you it’s easy to say that now knowing
that I’m heading to the lake tonight and that I’ll be sitting on my patio with
my husband celebrating 28 years of best days ever. It will be alot harder when I’m at work next
week and people need things from me yesterday and the dog has peed on the
floor. But for right this minute, when
everyone I love is safe it’s the best day ever.
