The Happiness Equation

I have been described my entire life as happy. Cheerful. Spunky. Positive.  I tend to walk on the sunny side of the street.  I carry around a glass 3/4 full looking for another 3/4 cup so I can overflow and share.  The eternal optimist. Not  to say that I do not have bad days or ugly moments.  I can absolutely get my grouch on. But if you had to paint me with a broad brush stroke you'd say purring kittens, sunshine and rainbows.

I have bumped into the opposite kind of person from time to time in life.  The one who is never quite happy enough. Is always looking down at their feet, mumbling about one thing or another.  In a constant state of woe is me.  It has got me thinking: Why?  What is it that makes one person  have a personality that craves joy and another that emanates gloom and doom.   Is it something your parents teach you?  Can you be taught to be happy? It has been heavy on my heart of late.

When I cross paths with these people they look at me like I have two heads.  Like I'm a baboon in t he zoo exhibit throwing feces at them.  Constantly looking behind me for a battery pack of stardust and confetti.  I feel like they are trying to decipher what makes me tick as hard as I am trying to make them smile.  I get up in the morning thinking about what I can do to make someone smile.  I live for laughter that makes your stomach cramp and face muscles ache in glorious pain.  Nothing warms my heart like the sight of a baby smiling at you from their shopping cart across the aisle in Target.  I just love happiness.

I recently read a book whose character was a professor who taught a class on happiness.  He was trying to find the formula for happiness.  Like it is a simple math equation.  Security + Good Experiences = Happiness.  A recent episode of Oprah (which I hardly ever watch yet will reference twice in this paragraph alone) had a real life professor who wrote a book about the same subject.  He took into account factors which made people happier.  Working close to home vs. a long commute.  Being married vs. single.  Having children vs. not.  Money.  Geography.  Stress.  Relationships.  The list went on and on.  I wonder if it's that easy. I envision an infomercial at 3am promising with 4 easy payments of $19.99 YOU TOO can follow these 10 easy steps and be joyful.  *Cue studio audience to clap like they are at the taping of Oprah's Favorite Things.*

I think in part your circumstances help or hinder your joy.  I have to put out the disclaimer that I had a happy childhood. I come from a financially stable background. I am very happily married and am head over heels in love with my husband and kids.  On the flip side,  I have been the chubby girl my whole life. I have had my heart broken by boys, friends, experiences.  My kids have the gift of pushing my Make Momma Crazy Button.  Life has not always gone my way.  But the longer I live and the more people I meet I think it's a hardwired trait. At 10 years old I didn't know how to make myself happy.  I didn't go through the list of things you need to be joyful and seek them out.  I just was.  I think the same goes for people who seem unhappy.  I am certain they don't wake up everyday trying to make themselves miserable.  I know they don't spill out their cup of joy looking for misery.  I often wonder if they know the vibe they are sending the world.  Do we attract what we put out in the world?  If you send out stardust with jazz hands do you get that back?  Does misery really love company?

I think it does.  I don't mind  throwing a good pity party from time to time. We all have days that you stand in the middle of the third glass of spilled milk, holding the crying baby with the ear infection as dinner burns.  You roll your eyes, sniff up the tears and lift your hands to heaven asking WHY ME?  But you get over it.  You don't stay there.  Something snaps you out of it.  You come back to yourself.  It's easier for some people to do that.  Of this I am convinced.

Personally I can only take so much of a woeful personality before I have to retreat.  I need to get back in my bubble.  I do not think less of them.  I do not dislike them.  I just cringe knowing it's coming.  The whining is coming. The Eeyore sighs are coming.  I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears and say la la la la la.  But I stay and smile. I try to help. I be a friend.  I do my part.  While it may be contrary to my nature I still find being a good and honest friend a very valiant trait.  My insides are churning like the Bryers Ice Cream factory but I am smiling and holding your hand and listening for the 10,000th time because that is what friends do. Here is my big problem with it: I can't help.  I can't fix it.  No matter how many pep talks or cheery words of wisdom I impart, nothing changes.  My first born type A personality needs to fix it.  I fail.  You can imagine how much I enjoy failure.  It grates on me like a 40 year old Pecorino Romano.  No good.  In fact it stinks.  It's selfish of me.   I get that.  It's about me when I should be thinking about you.  I just am spent.  We've been here.  We've done this.  Yet.  Here were go again...la la la la....

So what are the options for Susie Sunshine and Debbie Downer in a friendship? How does one find and embrace happiness?  Is there a simple recipe you can toss in the Kitchen Aid and *poof* Joy Souffle?  Is it my job to make you happy? I wish I had some of these answers.  It only brings me more questions with a side of heartache.