FNLEHPY
I’ll give you one red light cycle to figure out the license plate I saw yesterday.
[Humming the theme song from Jeopardy!]
Finally Happy.
It got me thinking…why did it take so long? What are you happy about? As I waited for the light to turn green, I wanted to ask the driver from where did he or she find happiness. Inside or outside? Inner or outer? Internally or externally? Did you connect your mind with the seat of your soul or was it a connection between a thing and your credit card?
Finally Happy.
So much is written about finding happiness. I subscribe to a few blogs that talk about cultivating happiness. Ten steps to happiness! Start your own Happiness Project! Happiness for sale! Don’t Worry ~ Be Happy!
Finally Happy.
What works for me may not work for you. I’m an inside girl. But I wasn’t always an inside girl. I used to travel frequently for business…and for me it was like a free pass to run away from home. A home that was tainted with infidelity and divorce. It didn’t matter that my ex-husband had long since gone. Everytime I walked through the front door it was as if the dark cloud of doom and gloom followed me inside and took up permanent residence.
I sold the house and nearly everything in it. “A fresh start,” I thought.
I remember thinking that as soon as I moved from “the house of pain” into my brand new home my life would be so much better.
Only it wasn’t.
Because I discovered that no matter where I went, my life followed me. All my pain, all my suffering, all my fears jumped into my suitcases and moving boxes and moved into my new house.
Finally Happy.
I unpacked the nooks and crannies of my life, set up a new house, and plastered a smile on my face when all I wanted to do was crawl into a fetal position, suck my thumb and tell the world to go away. How could I quit? How could I just give up? Throw in the towel? That’s just not in my vocabulary. I was emotionally sick. I was physically tired. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
“E.N.O.U.G.H.” I wrote in bright red lipstick on my bathroom. Enough already.
Like the cyrsallis, no one could help me find my wings. No one could do my mental and emotional pushups. No one could help me pull myself up by my combat bootstraps. No one could do for me that which I was fully capable and responsible to do on my own.
Finally Happy.
It started with my choice to no longer be miserable.
Peggy Nolan
http://thestepmomstoolbox.com
toolboxgrl@gmail.com
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