Today, I choose Happiness!! I’m trying like hell, anyway

If Voltaire could choose to be happy, why am I having such a hard time?
If Voltaire could choose to be happy, why am I having such a hard time?

Some days are easier than others; you wake up, smile to the rising sun and choose to greet the day with a positive attitude. It’s a great day to have a great day!  Things could be worse! Count your blessings!   But some days it really, really takes a great deal of effort to smile, to forget the wrongs being done continually by inconsiderate people.  Some days are a lot more gray than others. It’s just the way of the world.

There is a fine line between shrugging things off “for the greater good” and putting your foot down and saying “enough is enough”.   When someone doesn’t bother to honor my feelings, or at least my professional dignity, it can be hard to feel part of a team; it makes me feel more like a cog in a very rusty wheel.  A wheel running willy-nilly down a steep hill.  I suppose every time you put yourself out there, take down the wall and allow yourself to get lost in something, there is the possibility that someone will hurt you.  Without the protection of thick skin, emotional distance and professionalism, it’s a lot easier to feel the pain of disappointment.

For me, passion is not an option; it’s who I am.  When I love something, become passionate about it, I cannot give less than 100%.  I put my Taurus head down and pour my heart and soul into it. It becomes part of my identity.  It’s not just a job, a relationship, a hobby.  I’m all or nothing and while I try not to, I take life very, very seriously.  This trait can obviously lead to a lot of disappointment, heartache and the desire to just give up completely.  Unfortunately, that’s not an option for me either.

It’s my own fault I suppose.  Over and over again I put my trust in people who do not deserve it. I give myself over to situations I cannot control and hope (with all my might) that this time, this time, things will be better.  And when they aren’t, when I still have the same results, I chastise myself for being naïve enough to believe again.  Because by then, it’s too late. I’ve already given myself over. Because I don’t know another way of being, I keep believing in people. I keep trying.

It’s a choice to be happy and it’s a hard, hard choice to make on days such as this. The biggest problem for me is that I want to make a difference.  I want to be more than just your average gal.  I’m smart, I’m loyal, I’m passionate and I give my all.  But for some reason, I’m incredibly obtuse when it comes to believing in the wrong people.  In believing that this time it will be different.  This isn’t my first heartbreak. This isn’t my first let down.  I’m 46.  I’d love to have the option of not caring, of not trying, but it’s just not who I am.  So, I take a deep breath, build another layer on my already thick skin, and put another brick in my wall.  I paste on a smile, try my very best to shine despite my pain, and keep on going.

While I can’t control how other people treat me, I do have control of how I treat myself.   Anger and pain is a poison that destroys my ability to be happy; destroys my ability to be the person I want to be.  So I’ll repeat slowly and often, “I have chosen to be happy because it is good for my health”.  And sooner or later, I’ll believe it.

As sung by one of my favorites, Frank Sinatra (written by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields)

Pick Yourself Up

Now nothing’s impossible, I’ve found for when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.
Don’t lose your confidence if you slip, be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up, dust off, start over again.
Work like a soul inspired until the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired, but you be a man, my son.
Will you remember the famous men who have to fall to rise again,
So take a deep breath, pick yourself up, start all over again.
(musical interlude)
You gotta work like a soul inspired until the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired, but you be a man, my son.
Will you remember the famous men who have to fall and then to rise again,
So take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
(musical interlude)
Once again now:
Will you remember the famous men who have to fall and then rise again,
So take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
(coda)
That’s enough now.

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