Me, Myself, and Everyone Else

It’s Valentine’s Day, and in true Sana fashion, I am listening to De La Soul‘s Me, Myself, And I wearing a hoodie and hanging out on my couch. This is not meant to elicit any pity, this is actually a perfectly content moment for me. I managed to get around without crutches for most of today, so I am in fact perfectly pleased. 

I am seriously considering embarking on the 100 Happy Days. It seems like the kind of chipper, cloyingly upbeat thing I would hate, but for once I feel like contrived happiness might actually do me some good.

Contemplating the 100 Happy Days made me consider what it means to be “happy” each and every day. I mean, there’s a difference between finding one happy thing each day and being happy all day, every day. The latter is just unrealistic, and especially so for me. I feel emotions strongly, to say the least, so I could never be perpetually happy, nor do I want to be. I relish excitement and nervousness, and occasional fear, and I grow through sadness and pain. They are part of what makes me and I could never expect to be perfectly happy or content all the time. It simply isn’t in my nature.

If I took on the project, the real point would be to find silver linings every day, and that is something I could really use. I find myself in a rather low place of late, likely caused by the combination of injury, isolation, and seemingly simultaneous change and stasis. Maybe a prescription for happiness is something I could genuine give myself. We’ll see how that pans out. Happy Valentine’s Day.


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