Not Happier

I’ve been struggling with a lot of negativity lately; it seems that everything around me is in some state of conflict. So I’ve been trying to maintain a positive attitude and look on the bright side of things (and there is quite a lot in my life to be happy about, honestly). So I found this app called “Happier” that helps you journal the positive things in your life, and through the magic of social media, everyone can post more positive comments to help motivate you.

Sounds awesome, right?

So I download the app, and it automatically scans your contacts for friends, then suggests other people that you may want to connect with. And there at the top of my list:

TBM.

Now, I know… DO NOT CLICK there. I KNOW THIS. This makes me no better than what she did to me. Did I honestly care?

Curiosity won. I clicked. At the end of the day, I want to know what, if anything, makes her happy. And it started out awesome; picture after picture of H, looking sleepy or happy or adorable. Then I came across the post about “the stepmother.”

It wasn’t anything super negative, just a comment about “not choking” when she saw me. Honestly, for a moment, I thought it was a typo, because I’m pretty sure she DOES want to choke me. But it made me horribly, inexplicably sad. At this point, I just don’t think we will ever get to a point where we can at least be in the same room without her icy stares and cold shoulder. It’s exhausting. The behavior is just childish and exhausting. I don’t want it to be this way, but I’ve accepted the fact that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

So I deleted the app. If that’s her “Happy” place, I’m certainly not going to encroach on that territory; she needs it far more than I do.

And this was just a reminder, not to look through the fence at the mental asylum.

#HappierFAIL

One thought on “Not Happier

  1. Do you know the story about the hundredth monkey? Look it up if not. I’ve rebuilt my narrative sufficiently I own it, with its many perspectives. I think that’s what we do, rebuild our narratives constantly, and wait for others catch on. Just waiting for the 100th Monkey. So when others ask how I’m doing my answer is “Waiting on the 100th Monkey”!, and then I wait if its bait enough. Until then, I’m a conspirator, radical, subversive. Or one with a beer, working a patient cause interest requires. Are you on the right track, look elsewhere for happy, Or is it others not seeing what you do and stifled the boredom waiting on them?

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