Today’s blog post wasn’t written by me, though it certainly does speak to something that has been on my mind recently.  The post was written as part of the Blog Share project thought up by -R- at And You Know What Else? The idea behind the project is pretty neat.  So read on and give this person a lot of comment love!  Oh and after the post there is a list of other blogs (including mine) that are participating this time around if you want to check out some more awesome writing.

Here is my anonymous poster’s post:

I decided – or realized? – this December that all I want in life is to be happy. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing more and nothing less. Okay, well maybe disgustingly happy. That would be alright. But I don’t care about fancy cars and millions of dollars in a Swiss bank account. I don’t need an executive-level job, I don’t want designer clothes. I just want to be happy.

But try as I might, through all the soul-searching … I can’t for the life of me figure out what that is. How I get there. What I need to reach that point. And really, how can I get there if I don’t even know where the destination is. It’s not like you can set your GPS to “Happy Ness” (like Loch Ness). No, that would be too easy.

But then, I wonder. Does everyone “get” to BE happy? Or is that a luxury reserved for just a select few? All those sappy smiling faces in Christmas cards and Facebook profiles… are they special? Or were they just patient? What did they do to deserve that, and what did I miss? Sure I  have a  “whole lifetime” to get to that point, but time slips away so quickly it seems. Just yesterday it was summer, just the week before that, university. If the past slips between your fingers with such ease, then the future must as well.

Sometimes I take an analytical view of happiness. I look at those who I “want to be” … those lives I want to live, and I dissect what they have in common.

And the common denominator seems to be finding that “perfect someone” and raising that “ideal family?” Why do we define happiness by these things? And I’m not talking about what we see in the media and toxic magazines (well, maybe I am, how much are our world views shaped by those exterior forces anyways… but I digress). I’m talking about the people I see as having “it all” … why do they all have serious, committed, relationships, budding families and peaceful lives.

None of this constant questioning of who they are, why they bother, and reaching for the “next” – whatever that is.

Maybe the problem begins with the fact that I don’t really know who I am. That I’m just constantly conflicting myself. How can I possibly nail down what I want, when I can’t even decide who I am.

It changes with the weather, with the audience, with the day. I never thought I was fickle, but I am. Not in my relationships (no, when I love I love hard and fast and with unstoppable passion), but in my actions, in my feelings, in what I do and how I react to situations.

Take Valentine’s Day.

First, a bit of context. I am dating someone right now. We’ve been together for almost a year. But things have cooled off a bit recently. We are still together, but we recognize that there are exterior forces that mean we’re not exactly going to be getting married in the next year… or really the near future… but we enjoy each others’ company, we get along very well, and well… there’s chemistry.

So Valentine’s day came and went. Without even a “good morning, happy V-day” or a lame little e-card or anything. It was like it NEVER HAPPENED. And I was torn. Kind of.

Part of me wants to be wooed. Part of me wants a special gentleman to present me with a bouquet of flowers – or just a single rose – and a simple, yet incredibly romantic “I love you” and maybe a dinner at home.

I, in return, would list the many ways and reasons why I love him back. Why he’s special, and why I can’t imagine my life without him.

Not an engagement ring. Not expensive jewelery. Just a simple, touching reminder of what two people mean to each other.

But the other part of me is cynical. Valentine’s day is a Hallmark holiday. It creates tension and dashed hopes. It’s cliche. Cynical-me ex-nay-ed the letter… that absolutely disgusting profession of love and adoration because it’s “silly.”

So which one is “me”? Am I the hopeless romantic, or the hardened cynic?

Will I be the natural, hopeless romantic if I’m with the “right guy”? Or will I always second-guess myself, my intentions, my feelings?

Who the hell am I? And when do I get to figure that out? And when I DO figure that out… does that mean I can begin the real pursuit of happiness? And where will that lead me? And what lies in between? More of this ambiguous identity and happiness purgatory?

I know there’s no quick solution. I know there’s no magic-pill fix. But really, believe me when I say I would do anything just to be happy. Just to be one of those shiny smiley faces, with only the “normal” worries, and “normal” fears…

Not this constant questioning of self. I’ve had enough of that.

***

Here is a list of the other blogs that are participating:

And You Know What Else
Andrea Unplugged
Blue Soup
Bright Yellow World
Bwildered
Caity of the Keps
Catheroominations
Citystreams
Daily Tannenbaum
Did I Say That Outloud?
Dispatches From The Failed Mommy Club
Face Down
For The Long Run
Full Of Snark
Heidikins
In Java, Literally
Just Below 63
LizLand
Malfeasance
A New Duck
NonSoccer Mom
The North Is My Snowcone
Not The Daddy
Operation Pink Herring
Pants, Pants, Pants
Red Red Whine
Sassy Buster
Sauntering Soul
Shushing Action
Snarke
Snow-Covered Hills
Swimming With Sharks
Thinking Some More
Trueish Story
Way Way Up
Whiskey Marie